An Imperfect Dark Magic
by Brown Eyed Girl1
Summary: Her life was defined by the three tattoos she had; a Dragon Shield on her right arm, the Tree of Life on her left, but mostly by the large, dark 'S' that ran the length of her spine.
1. Prolouge

_**A/n; All usual disclaimers apply. Please do not copy any portion of this work without first messaging me. I promise, I will always grant permission, but would like the courtesy of being informed before hand. ~BEG**_

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When I was a small child, I would ask my mother, what the 'S' on her back stood for, and every time she answered me, I was told it was in honor of my own name. When others would ask her, it was her own last initial. Only when he asked, did she say that it was for her House that she as in at school. Never once, ever, even in her own thoughts I think, did she ever say it was for Him. While I know my mother to not be that sentimental, part of me believes that it is so - that the word, the name, that she repeated as the ink was being Incaustumed into her skin was not hers, her House's, or even my own, but His.

She was a woman of many stories, these tattoos being but small glimpses of all she had seen, all that had been in her strange and varied life. Oh, the delight she would take in these tellings, all circuitous, outrageous and so vivid, as if I had been there to watch the events unfold with no Occlumency needed. These epics always started with the same old question from my young, inquisitive mind; 'Nezzee, tell me about when . . .' Never once did she tell me to stop being so nosy, and if ever I found a story she did not wish to relate, she would promise to tell me about it some other time. I understand now, that most parents use such defections, however, I always believed her implicitly. Her life, at least to me, was an open book. Only some chapters were saved for their proper place and time

When I was a small child, I always expected that she would have that 'happily ever after', just like in the story books I would read. That all would be well with the world for her. As I grew, I came to realize, that the neatly tidied away existence of 'happily ever after' would have been tantamount to an Unforgivable Curse to her. Life had offered her the perfect ending multiple times over, and she had rejected it always. Instead she chose the derelict looking house on a cobbled street, in some muggle town. No Castles. No neat little houses. She was Anezka Nimue Myrriddan Sova, and she deserved no less than those. But she had long since made up her mind on what she wanted and when she had done that, no force of nature, magic or will would make her change her mind. The reasons she chose such only became evident to me, as I pieced together her myriad of sensationalist, sometimes even sordid tales.

Her Name was Nezza Sova, and her tale could have started at any stage of her life, but the true adventure, began on a train, when she was soon to be 17 . . .


	2. Train

To say that she caused only a few strange stares would be a gross understatement. In fairness, she seemed displaced in both muggle King's Cross Station with her antiquated steamer trunk, and heavily embroidered walking cape draped casually around her shoulders, and for the other side of the 9 ¾ barrier, with her disc-man clipped to the back pocket of her tattered jeans and the questionable looking cigarette held casually in one hand.

More shocking, no matter which side, was the dark outlines of ink on her upper arms, exposed by her spaghetti strap tank. They were barely obscured by a fold of fabric from the cloak that was supposed to be keeping her warm in the pre-dawn chill that was settled over London. To see tattoos in one so young seemed taboo to both magical and non, alike. Needless to say, muggles thought nothing of a teen smoking, these days.

It was early, much earlier then any other student had seen fit to be at the station by, and Nezza's reasons for being there at such a time were her own. Although, her blood-shot eyes and constant yawning gave away the fact that she had not seen such an hour in years. There were hours to pass, and she seemed content to pass them sitting atop her trunk, chain smoking. As soon as one hand-rolled smoke went out, she would rummage around in the messenger bag that was sitting in her lap, and dig out a new one, light it with her wand, and go back to leaning on her arm, which was propped up on one of her crossed legs. A few of the station attendants, brightly clad in uniforms in a vast array of rainbow colours, tutted derisively as they walked past, muttering under their breaths about the unkempt youth, though most ignored her. It was not until parents started arriving with eager faced children, that criticisms started flying audibly.

Anezka found the particularly verbal and vociferous disapprobation of a short, red-headed woman who was passing by with a flock of children, particularly amusing. "How appalling! Such obvious disregard for what is appropriate. Doesn't she know how she looks . . . doesn't she have a mother to tell her to brush her hair!" She tutted to herself only, as the children were too busy chattering amongst themselves. She muttered a few more choice words about the 'shoddy state of parenting these days' and 'that poor, un-looked after child', as she looked back over her shoulder after they had past.

Catching her eye, Anezka freed her left hand by putting her smouldering cigarette between her lips, then took both hands and ran them through the short dark locks, that already stood out at angles resembling something like a hedgehog's prickles, making it even worse than before. The woman's brown eyes widened in horror at such impertinence, and she quickly scuttled their charges onward, obviously afraid that such disrespect might be catching .For their parts, none of the children noticed this silent interlude as they were all to busy conjecturing about what the new term held, and one of them, a small, bespectacled boy with dark hair, was being pulled away from the group, by the woman's husband.

The train doors flew open soon after for the passengers to start loading up. While more travellers were arriving last minute through the barrier and more were being clucked over by their loving family, she was once again reminded how glad she should be that she did not have to deal with such goodbyes. Tossing away her smoke with a flick of her wrist, she shot a furtive look around to make sure everyone was occupied with their own business and could not see her. Quickly, she made her wand appear from the pant leg she had it hidden in, and with a whispered _locomotor_ charm, she nudged the trunk towards the train, and made sure that it was safely stowed before finding the first abandoned compartment. Throwing her messenger sack on the seat, she curled up next to it, laying her head on it as a pillow.

She wasn't disturbed again until after the train had started moving, when a short, bushy haired girl - one of the gaggle that had been shooed away from her at the station for fear of attitude contamination, slid the glass door open. "Who? What? Where? With how many gnomes?" Nezza sat bolt upright. "It wasn't me, you can't prove it!"

The girl at the door first seemed surprised to find anyone in the small room, but quickly raised a brown brow. "I'm sorry, I thought this compartment was empty."

Nezza didn't say anything, but just looked at the girl for a moment, and an awkward silence fell between them briefly. "It's not, in case you were still wondering." She finally broke the silence after blinking a few times and rubbing at her eyes.

"Well, no, obviously." The girl sounds a touch annoyed at such a blindly obvious statement, and then couldn't help but watch the girl's clumsy movements as she rummaged around in the makeshift pillow, and triumphantly pulled her hand out with what she sought- yet another cigarette.

"So . . . are you going sit down or not?" Anezka asked as she lit up, staring blankly at the girl.

Trying to not look horrified that a student was smoking on the train, the girl got off to several false starts. "Well, we were . . rather we need, that is . . . there were some private matters . . . . I'm sorry, what IS that?" She finally broke down and asked the questions that was so obviously distracting her. She knew cigarettes well enough to know that what the girl held was far from a common Marlborough Light. Enough 'just say no' adverts on the television were enough to also educate her on what it _did_ look like.

With what could only be described as an evil grin, Anezka looked at the item in question in her hand, then looked at the inquisitor. "A little something of my own creation. Let's just call it a smokeable version of a cup of coffee. . ." She paused to take a puff.

"Well, is that what it actually is?"

Nezza paid no attention to her and continued after the drag, "Give or take a few narcotics." Her exhaled breath sent the smoke snaking through the air of the cabin.

"Are you new? I don't recall ever seeing you around the castle." It was a bid to change the subject after the startling answer.

"You couldn't be just extraordinarily unobservant, maybe? Hogwarts is a big place you know." Anezka was beginning to enjoy evading this younger girl's nosey questions, and her smirk was growing wider with every answer.

Ignoring this obvious provocation, the girl just rolled her eyes at Nezza's suggestion and pressed forward. "I wasn't aware you could transfer into Hogwarts, but you are obviously not a first year." This was said with a subtle air of authority, as if it was a fact out of a book.

"Oh, no, I'm actually eleven - I'm just exceptionally tall for my age." She took a drag, as if to accentuate the incredulity of this comment.

Before the younger girl could respond to the obvious sarcasm, from the other side of the door, the two boys that were accompanying the girl called for her attention. With an irritated tone they insisted they would find somewhere else to sit if it was full in that one, clearly not able to see past their classmate. They could have heard the entire conversation but that would have involved paying closer attention to things.

"Well, I suppose I will see you at school." Her tone was one that was strained - as if she was trying to NOT sound like a snob - as she backed out of the door, closing it behind her. From down the corridor Anezka heard her voice echoing back up to where she sat. "We'll have to sit in there, everywhere else is full."

With a chuckle at being considered personality enough to fill a entire train compartment, Nezza settled back down onto the bench, adjusting her knapsack so as to make it more comfortable. Cradling her head in her entwined hands, took notice of the details around her. The softened black leather of the benches had faded to an almost gray tone in some spots, from years of use. Still, the cushioning was firm and not at all lumpy. No doubt a squadron of attendants used every charm in the book to keep them in good order. The light alder wood panelling was polished so well it glowed in the lamplight, and Anezka hypnotized herself following the ornate lines of carving that adorned the walls.

It could have been several hours later, or only just a few moments, but all Nezza realized was that she was waking up cold and that the train had stopped moving. Everything was dark, and just seemed . . . off.

With a shrug she stood and gathered up her belongings, swearing as she rammed her shin against the edge of the seat. Making a mental note to dig out her bruise salve as soon as she got to the school, she tried making her way to the corridor. Surprisingly, she was only one of a few students gathering in the hallways and the only one with belongings in tow. Most were peering up and down the corridors as if there might be something interesting. Some were feeling their way along the walls and tripping into other compartments, trying to see if anyone else had some answers as to why the train had stopped.

Anezka felt it was a safe assumption that they hadn't arrived at the school like she had originally believed, and instead made her way carefully back into the compartment. Feeling bored, cold and miserably unhappy, she reached in her bag for one last smoke. She moved to the far end, and cracked open the window so the smoke could be vented outside, and regretted it instantly when the icy cold rain started splattering on her face.

A sharp wind blew in through the window, forcing her to relight the smoke she held between her lips. As the flame charm glowed brightly for a moment, she thought that something she could see through the glass door wasn't right. It could have just been a student, but she could find no point of reference for a ten foot tall student in a tattered black robe. As the figure past her compartment, it seemed as though her stomach fell to her toes.

The rain was a perfect physical manifestation of the state of her mind in the minutes that followed. Suddenly, all she could think of were things she preferred to ignore – the stab of pain she had hidden masterfully when she left her family to come to school, the years spent never being in one place long enough to call it home, but most of all, the thing she wanted to forget the most, waking up to find her father haphazardly packing up his trunks. She steeled her will, determined to make the thoughts go away, but they wouldn't budge.

As she took a last draw on her cigarette, she decided since stubbornness wouldn't make her riotous mind stop the replay of her life that danced in her memory, she would have to try distraction tactics. A potion! She would start developing a new potion, one that would magically induce a sense of happiness in the subject. It would be different then any euphoria elixir or cheerful tonic though. It would be stronger, it would act faster and last longer. It wouldn't cloud judgement like euphoria elixirs and it would run deeper then cheerful tonics. No sadness would be too strong for what she wanted to brew. But what ingredients would she use?

As she listed through everything she knew had the effects she sought, she slowly felt her breathing get easier and her composure return. She still had a nauseous, angry feeling, but was at least able to pretend it was gone now that she had something else to think about. Any time something that she didn't wish to think about crossed her mind, she pushed it away harder then before.

This mental battle had her so distracted, she did not notice when the lights returned, and the train had started moving again. It wasn't until the train slowly pulled into the station at Hogsmead that she really got pulled from her own thoughts. The ringing of bells and blowing of whistles startled her, and this time she was certain it was time to disembark, but even as she went she listed through different extracts and powders and how they would be best mixed.

The crowds to get off the train were rather combative this time, every one seemed fairly shaky after the . . . whatever it was, on the train, and by the time she made it off the train onto the platform, her trunk had already been unloaded and was being surrounded by scores of other trunks, all being piled up to make the journey up to the castle.

"Anezka! Over here!" A clear, posh voice called across the crowds, and Nezza scanned the faces until she saw a tall, dark haired girl motion her over. She made her way over and was quickly greeted by the girl who was perfectly turned out in a well-tailored school uniform. "You're Anezka, right? We looked for you at the station, but didn't find you. I'm Onyx."

"Well, Onyx," Nezza started in a false serious. "There's a very good reason for that, namely that I've been fighting a two day hangover from this killer home-made booze that my cousin Andrei brewed for my going away party, which by the way was a smash hit. I mean I haven't lived with them for what, like five or six years? Been staying with them for a month and they go absolutely bat-shit crazy over me. But whatever - so he brewed this stuff and it went down like Butterbeer, gave the punch of Firewhiskey and came back up like my mum's cooking. I got so pissed! So yeah, cause of that I was a bit late getting to the portkey that Grandad Sova arranged for yesterday - and by late, I mean I missed it completely and utterly. So he had to arrange for another, which couldn't get me here until this morning, and he decided to arrange it at the ass-crack of dawn just so that if anything else went wrong, we'd still have time to get me here. So, throw that in with not getting a decent night's sleep since the party, cause I was up the whole night making-out with the U-Bend, I ended up totally passing out in the first available cabin on the damn train . . . " She finally stopped to take a breath. "Aren't there supposed to be two of you?"

Onyx laughed lightly, but looked rather intimidated. "Really, 'I fell asleep in the train' would have been just enough info, thanks. As for Jade, I imagine she's off socializing with all of our other friends, scoping out if they knew what happened earlier with the train. Rumour has it that they were Dementors." She whispered conspiratorially. "Probably looking for Sirius Black."

"De-what-whats? Looking for Who?" Anezka was so thoroughly befuddled.

With a confounded expression, Onyx squinted at her in disbelief. "Merlin's Beard, Anezka! I know you've practically been living under the mouldy side of a rock since forever, but surely you know who Sirius Black is . . it's all over the news!" Nezza just shrugged to this. "Oh, never mind then! I don't feel like explaining it! Let's find my sister and get in a carriage." With that, the two girls made their way to the horseless carriages, ready to start the term


	3. Arrival

One of my favourite toys when I was a small child were my Mother's papers and letters from Hogwarts. I would pull them from the various books and boxes they were kept in, serving as place markers or crumpled up as padding for crystal vials and lay them all out in front of me and pretend that I was getting my letter for school. Or more fun still, pretending I was a professor, and I'd give these letters to my cuddly dragon, Philip.

Once I learned to read, I read every word, enjoying them as I still played my games. It wasn't until I was much older that I began to wonder what would have happened if she had waited for the member of staff that was to collect her at the station, as was stated in the letter she received acknowledging her acceptance into the school. If instead of going into the Thestral's carriages with Auntie Jade and Auntie Onyx, she had waited to go up to the school with Hagrid and all the first year students, as was intended for her to do, what might have been the outcome? However, such a story would be wild speculation as she very seldom did what was intended for her to do.

The chatter in the carriage was little more then idle gossip on the brief ride to the school. As the winding road neared it's end and approached the castle gates, it turned more serious as the question of where Anezka was supposed to go upon arrival became forefront in all their minds.

"Don't be ridiculous Onyx!" Jade scowled at her sister. "She can't come sit at our table with us! She's not in our house!"

Onyx scowled back. "Well, she might be. She hasn't been sorted yet."

"Well, I'm not willing to risk that 1 in 4 chance! How _embarrassing_ would that be if she would be sitting at our table then end up sorted into . . . Hang on a second," She paused and turned her head from where she was looking at her sister next to her, to face Anezka in the seat across. "How are you getting sorted anyway? You're not a first year. You're not even waiting _with_ the first years?"

With an artless shrug, she simply let out a noise resembling "Iunno." Both of the twin girls looked rather shocked and more then a little appalled. "What?" Nezza got defensive. "All they said in my letter was that 'upon my arrival a member of staff would direct you.' And there weren't any members of staff waiting for me."

Jade and Onyx rolled their eyes and let the subject drop, preferring instead to take bets on whether or not Gretchen Fox, a girl from their year had actually lost all the weight she had said she would.

As soon as the carriages rolled to a stop in front of the imposing main entrance, all the girls climbed out. "Well, we have to go sit at our table. I'd say look for one of the teachers. Best of luck and all that." Jade gave her farewell as the reached the entry and made a bee-line towards the Great Hall.

"Hope you get sorted into our house!" Onyx said with a wave as she followed her sister.

No sooner had Anezka nodded off her friends and done a full circle, gazing around taking in her surroundings, all epic paintings and moving staircases, then a wizened, wheezing, dirty excuse for a man set upon her faster then she ever thought that such a hunchback ever could. "There you are, you trouble-maker!" He growled as he grabbed her arm.

"WHAT?" Nezza screeched. "I've only been here four seconds! What the bloody fuck could I have done in four seconds?" She was very used to being accused and accosted by school staffers, but she was utterly shocked to be approached barely inside the door.

Her screams did nothing to ingratiate herself with the gasping man. Instead he looked almost gleeful. "I don't know. Word came down to me that you eluded Hagrid at the station and I was to find you. And find you I did! To the Headmaster's office for you my girl!" He started dragging her towards a flight of stairs.

Determined not to go without a fight, she started slapping at where his vein covered hand had a vice grip on her wrist. "Listen you barmy ol' berk! Get your hand off me!" She proceeded to drop herself to the ground, digging her heels into the cracks in the entry way's flagstones.

Not to be deterred by her struggle, her shouting, or her sitting position, he proceeded to drag her across the smooth floor, not stopping until they reached the stairs. When she made no move to stand up, he did something that by looking at him, Nezza would never have thought him capable of. Tugging her arm sharply, he managed to forcibly drag her up onto the first step, earning him a sharp proclamation of pain from his captive.

And so it went for 350 steps, echoing through the halls the sounds of drag -thump - "OW!", drag-thump-"OW!". What seemed like an eternity later, Nezza was sitting on the floor in front of a stone gargoyle, rubbing her sore posterior, glaring at her captor. "Y'know, when they said 'A member of staff will tell you where to go', this was NOT what I was expecting."

"The headmaster will be here any second to sort you out." The venom in his voice was positively dripping, as he loomed over her.

However, it wasn't a second. It wasn't a minute. Even worse still, it wasn't even an hour's wait until Albus Dumbledore came slowly meandering up to the entrance to his office. "My Dear Argus, what have we here?" He asked placidly as he looked at an irate looking Filch and a glaring Nezza, who had occupied her time with enchanting Filch's stringy grey hair to braid it's self, and then to quickly unbraid when he reached up to see what he had felt tugging at the back of his head. His hair was mid braid and froze when he was addressed by the headmaster.

"That student you were looking for, Headmaster." He growled.

Dumbledore looked puzzled for a moment. "I, Argus? I don't seem to recall seeking out a particular student, particularly one who looks rather irate enough to want to jinx me to kingdom come." He said with a chuckle as he cast a glance at the girl.

Filch leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "The one that oaf Hagrid was supposed to catch, that he let by at the station . . .I sent word to you, hours ago."

An amused realization spread over the older man's wise face. "The transfer student? Yes, I did receive word that you had found her, but you were to direct her to Professor Flitwick to be sorted before the ceremony started and then sent to her table."

Desolation spread over the caretaker's face, not because he had unjustly detained an innocent student, but rather because he knew no punishments would be meted out and he had waited all this time, hoping for an expulsion. Instead of truly responding, he gestured blandly at her then trudged off. Dumbledore chuckled lightly as he watched him leave. "And how are you this evening, Miss Sova?" He asked kindly.

"Was fine until that wazzock decided to break my ass getting me up here." The elderly professor agreed that such an incident would put a dampener on anyone's mood. "Now, who do I have to fucking _Imperio_ to get some food around here?"

If he was all started by her profanity he disguised it with a placid nod and an extended hand to help her off the floor. "Yes, why don't you come with me to my office, and we shall get you fed, sorted and sent on your merry way then."

It was to be the first of many times that Anezka would see the Gargoyle leap aside and the walls part for her. First of many trips up the spiral staircase, although, this time she wasn't so busy rehearsing her perfect alibi.

There was a melodious, albeit loud chirp from behind the door as they entered, making her nearly jump out of her skin. Looking to her right, sitting regally on a golden perch was a beautiful scarlet coloured phoenix. Grey eye twitching ever so slightly, Anezka discretely nudged away from the bird that was looking at her curiously, and followed Dumbledore further into the round office.

He motioned for her to sit and quickly called a house-elf to bring her up a plate of food, and before she knew it, he was contentedly making small talk whilst she shovelled food into her face, declaring that she had been fighting the munchies all day. Once she had eaten her fill and the dishes were cleared away, Dumbledore settled in to have the long academic conversation that was due.

"Well, Miss Sova. First of all let me extend my apologies. The whole castle has been in something of an uproar with the presence of the Dementors. As such, the people who were originally assigned to assist you in your arrival were called to see to other matters. Unfortunately, it was you who had to pay that price."

"Not bothered." She shrugged.

"Thank you for your graciousness. I must say, I am rather astonished that you are even sitting here. I believe the last time Hogwarts saw a transfer student was . . . " He paused, searching his mind for the date.

"1793." She provided the answer, in an effort to expedite the conversation.

"Indeed, you are correct Miss Sova. So, while not unprecedented, you are uncommon and to that extent we were rather at a loss with what to do with you. But before we can discuss your time here, there is one ritual that needs to be seen to." He stood, turning to the wall behind him and pulled down a tattered and worn hat. "We must first find out to what house you belong" He skirted around the desk to where the new student sat, and gently sat the hat on her head.

Luckily, Anezka was used to hearing voices in her head, and so wasn't at all surprised when the hat started to speak. "Ah, a wild card student, eh?" The hat wheezed. "Well, you missed my wonderful song, but I suppose I'll sort you anyway. Let's see here . . . Well, I see here that you are not afraid of anything. But to my way of thinking, that's not the same as bravery. Nor is Chivalry a concept that often enters your head. No, not Gryffindor for you. Yes, I see you are clever, very clever and not just a little creative, but you are not studious, so you would not do well in Ravenclaw. Hufflepuffs value loyalty and fair play - you would sell your own grandmother if you thought you could make a profit, and swindle the buyer while at it. I see ambition, that many others often don't see in you. . . yes, yes . . . cunning and resourceful too. There's only one thing for it . . . SLYTHERIN!" That hat, perhaps didn't yell it's final declaration as loudly as loudly as it would have in the Great Hall, but rather stated it firmly, as if there was no doubt, or at least, no other option.

With a raised a dark brow, Anezka reached up and pulled the hat off her head and gazed at it quizzically. "Well, bugger me! This grotty old hat did in two minutes what it's taken my shrink 2 years to figure out!"

Dumbledore just smiled bemusedly at her, a wary glint in his blue eyes, and sent for the Head of her new House.


	4. Silencio!

_**A/N; This chapter is dedicated to itachi523, the first person to put my story on Favorites/alerts. Yeah for readers!! This chapter feels shorter, but hopefully I will be cranking out a few more pages in the next few days, following the much vexed professor and his new student through the halls on their way to the Slytherin common rooms. All reviews will be met with much much much love! So, without further ado . . . . **_

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_I spent seven years as a student in this place with nary a trip to the Headmaster's office, and now that I am a professor, I spend more time there than I do in my own quarters._ Snape grumbled to himself as he trudged all the way from the dungeons to the blasted Sixth floor tower.

It did not bode well for the year, this summons. Usually Dumbledore waited until term was more than an hour old before these meetings started. But not this year apparently. This year, he had just barely managed to get the 1st years settled in and the common rooms calmed down before receiving word that he was needed for a conference.

_Most likely to do with that wretched child. Between dementors attacking him and Black escaping prison to kill him it's bound to be yet another . . . thrilling . . . year._

Before he could really start to ponder why he didn't just let every homicidal maniac have their way with the brat, he was in front of the gargoyle, which was already moving out of the way, anticipating his arrival.

"I apologize for the late hour Severus, but there are details that need to be brought to your attention." Dumbledore, like the guardian of his office, anticipated him with this greeting before he had fully entered the room.

Attempting to not roll his eyes, Snape walked into the office. "I understand your concern Headmaster, but surely Potter can manage to survive one night in the castle without requiring me to leave my own students to plan his protection."

"I promise you, this has nothing to do with Harry, and everything to do with your own charges." He motioned the younger man forward from the doorway. "Please, come sit."

It was then that Snape saw the tips of dark hair visible just over the back of the chair, its occupant slouching so badly as not to be easily seen at first glance. As he drew nearer, the leg that was casually draped over the antique's arm also reached his notice. When he finally sat in the one free chair, he could take full inventory of the girl, lolloping dispassionately onto the chair.

Her first offense was that she wasn't clad in anything even remotely resembling a uniform. Second was the fact that the foot that was still placed on the floor was tapping incessantly. Likewise, her disinterested expression did nothing to ingratiate this student to him, a very dangerous thing considering he barely tolerated the children as it was.

"You'll remember, Severus, at the last faculty meeting a few days back, that I mentioned the possibility of a transfer student?" He was answered with a non-committal agreement that such a statement sounded familiar. "Well, then please let me present Miss Anezka Sova."

"Alright?" She nodded ever so slightly, clearly not any more thrilled with being present then Snape himself was.

Ignoring her greeting he instead returned the gaze of the Headmaster. "And what, precisely does this have to do with me?"

"Everything." Dumbledore responded then turned back to the Sova girl. "Miss Sova, may I present Professor Snape. He is Hogwarts's resident Potions master, and your new Head of House."

"Potions, eh?" She sat up a little straighter.

Disregarding her query, he just gave the girl a dark look and returned his sight to Dumbledore. "Am I to understand that the Sorting Hat has placed this muggle-born . . ." He paused to shoot her an appraising glare. ". . .Delinquent, in Slytherin?"

"That is what the Hat said."

"Y'know . . . why does everyone think I'm a muggle born? I mean, is it the tats? They were done with a wand, I promise! It more painful that way, but I've got a thing with needles . . . ugh. Maybe it's the hair, do you think it's the hair? Can't be the hair? Hair's pretty generic, I think. I know! It's the shoes, innit? Don't think I've ever met another witch that wears Docs. . . "

Grinding his teeth together, Snape just managed to form words instead of a growl. "Perhaps it is the fact that you have clearly never been taught to speak only when spoken too?"

Missing his sarcasm, she seriously pondered this for a moment then shook her head vigorously. "Nah . . . my Tanti Ilinca always told me that - I grant you it was in Romanian - but then when I didn't listen she _Silencio_'d me. Come to think of it, Grandmama Eleanor used to do the same thing." She looked puzzled for a moment, as if she could not comprehend why such action had been taken. "But, yeah, So I'm thinking that it's not that. In fact, I don't think that's a strictly magical thing. In fact, I think the only reason such a phrase exists is cause a muggle can't cast a silencing charm . . . so really, in the long run, I should only know that if I _was_ Magical born. Course, I am, but I still don't. Either way, it doesn't make any sense, yeah?"

At this point it looked as though a Silencio charm was not the bit of Magic that Snape had on the brain as he seethed at her. "You mean to tell me you are a pureblood?"

"Yep. Dad's a wizard, Mum is from a magical family."

Wanting to prevent her from talking more, Snape almost didn't ask the question that her response baited him for. "Magical Family?"

Her face contorted with an eye roll and a shrug. "Yeah, she's a squib sure, but you can't get more magically born and bred then that lot. Magical in-breeds the lot of them. Starting to go a bit goofy if you ask me. Grandad Owen is a decent enough bloke, but no wonder Mum's preferred to live as a muggle for the past 5 years. I mean, her family is proof why you shouldn't marry your first cousin, and then living with Daddy's lot after them - they're like the Magical Romanian Mafia they are! And in the end you can't fault her for not wanting to live with people who don't so much as wipe their asses without whipping out their wands when she can't even get a wand to spark. She's brill with herbs and potions though. Well, not legit potion, kinda more muggle holistic remedies and shit, but that's all part of it, yeah?"

"Well, I think that suffices for Slytherin's criteria for blood status, don't you?" Dumbledore responded after earning a pleading look from Snape, that was begging for permission to cast any kind of spell on her. "It is not unprecedented that a half-blood could be sorted so." This earned Snape a pointed look in return.

"Indeed." He paused. "If I may though, Headmaster, what of her academic records. How are we to know where to place her."

Pushing a stack of parchment across the table to the younger man, Dumbledore smirked. "Those are her OWL scores, as submitted by

_Escola Mágica De Brasil_. She tests out well into our sixth form. There are procedures to transferring students you know."

Snape sifted quickly through the papers, seeing not only what, despite being in Portuguese, were obviously the referred to scores, but also a certified letter from the ministry that verified that she was now a legal resident of the country and a slew of of miscellaneous documents. "Well, clearly they have been neglected in regards to getting the student sorted before such an ungodly hour." He sniped.

"Indeed, the procedure, I fear is a bit rusty. But as Hogwarts has not seen such a case since 1790 I think we can . . ."

"1793"

Dumbledore paused and looked at Anezka. "I beg your pardon, Miss Sova."

"It was 1793. Armide De Vassey. She and her family apperated out of the Bastille the night before they were to be guillotined. They had a family estate just outside Paris, like, and were going to get the chop cause they were Aristos. They applied to the British Ministry of Magic for sanctuary, and as Beauxbatons was closed due to the crisis, she was forced to continue her education here."

"Thank you for that history lesson. It was quite fascinating." If it stunned her at all that Snape was as sarcastic as he was, she hid it well behind a vacant expression."However, while there is little left of my evening to salvage, I would still recommend drawing this meeting to a close as it is very late and classes begin early tomorrow." Whilst the words were ones of concern, his tone was still one of annoyance.  
"I quite agree, Severus. I will give you her files to review before her schedule meeting with you tomorrow." Snape did not give an answer but to stand abruptly and present a bony hand to receive the parchments.


	5. Snapeykins

_A/N; Even shorter this time. I'm sorry. I just wanted to get this section out and done so I can start getting our Heroine settled into her dorm, but for some reason didn't want to run it all together. This Chapter is dedicated to my new readers, but mostly to my first reviewer, Wendy Waddles. Hope this chapter lives up to your good opinion, and please, keep them coming._

"So, Sev? Tell me . . . "

They hadn't even made it to the first flight of stairs when Anezka attempted to open up conversation. However, all she managed to do, was make her professor stop dead in his tracks, his sallow complexion loosing what little colour it had. After taking a deep, almost growling, intake of air, he spun to face the teen that was following him. "You will NEVER call me that again! Do you understand me?" His fist clenched around the parchments he had been carrying, the crunching of the papers punctuating the look of sheer hatred he shot at her. "Not only is it inappropriate for a student to address a professor as such, it is as equally disrespectful for a child to call their elder by their given name. It is entirely discourteous and irreverent, and I assure you that should you repeat such an insubordination, I will personally see to your expulsion! I absolutely do not tolerate such contempt of propriety from any students, least of all from within my own house."

Having been staring at him with a perplexed expression, she waited a full minute after he had finished to make sure any such outbursts were finished and they had started walking again. "So . . . . Snapeykins, what's all this fuss about the . . . ." Quite clearly she was unfazed by his temper.

Again, he did not even let her finish her sentence. "Miss Sova! Did you not hear me? 50 points from Slytherin and do not tempt me to take more. Have no doubt, I will."

With a roll of her eyes and a guppy like gape to her mouth, she shook her head. "First of all, I'm not deaf, yeah? You just said first names, and I didn't call you that . . ."

"Fifty more for arguing!"

"And that brings me to number B, or wait, number 2? 2B? or not 2b? Anyway . . . next point of contention; I'm in your house, right? You just said so, and thats what Dumbles up there said, and from what I can gather from general knowledge is that house points are somewhat important and such, but I mean, what's the point? What do you win if your house has the most points? Cash? Better dorms? A banquet just for your house? Better not be some ruddy trophy or something. That would just be stupid. But either way, what do I care? Unless there is cash in the offering or the person who looses most points gets fed to the kraken in the Black lake, I just don't give a rat's ass."

"You will cease this idiotic prattle and follow me," He turned to lead her onwards but as if he sensed her opening her mouth, frozen in his first step and turned to look at her over his shoulder. "In silence." He emphasised his last word through gritted teeth.

They made it down at least two floors before she could be bothered to try again. "Excuse me sir, please sir, may I speak sir?" Her sarcasm had the subtlety of a dragon sitting on a house.

"If you keep it brief, respectful and relatively free of profanity."

"Well, that's no fun. . . ." Her pout was also rather snide.

"Those are the condition, either accept them or keep your mouth closed." It was probably for the best that he didn't turn to see her jaw extended as largely as possible. "Just speak, Miss Sova."

"Where the hell is my trunk? I mean, I've got my satchel here enchanted so I at least got clean socks and some underpants and some other bare essentials of life crammed in here, but I've got a small fortune of books and equipment and uh . . . potion ingredients, stashed in there. Not to mention all my school books. I would have brought it up with me, but Thing One and Thing Two said that I was supposed to leave it at the station, that it would get brought up."

"I have no comprehension of whom you are referring too, but fortunately, they were correct. They are brought up to the castle by house elves. It would be far to chaotic if we allowed students to be responsible for their own luggage. After the first years are sorted, they are given a list of all the students and what house they are in, and then bring their belongings into their dormitories. As to your luggage, I am sure some confused elf sat next to it at the station until the list updated itself as to your house, at which time it was placed in your new dormitory."

"Sucks to be that little bugger, then, doesn't it? But how do they know what room to put them in?"

It was obvious that Snape was still annoyed by her questions, but seemed to answer only in an attempt to keep her from previous routes of conversation. "Second through seventh years are assigned to the same rooms they were given first years. First years are assigned based on what is available and on a first come, first serve basis."

"So, like, if I had been a firstie here, as soon as I got sorted, the house elves would just put my stuff in any old empty room, in whatever order they got to. Like, some other shmuck's stuff was in front of mine on the pile of luggage so, they get a the first bed in the dorm, and then mine, and then who's ever's trunk was behind mine gets the next, and so on?"

"Exactly." Snape droned. "Although, there are much more important things that you should be learning about. Frankly, no student has ever had need of knowledge of how the housing assignments for Hogwarts are arranged." He was sounding less annoyed and more vexed.

"Well, then. Don't you think you should be telling me these much more important things?" She snarked at him.

"Indeed." He growled, as they reached the last stair into the cellar levels of the castle. "It can not have escaped _even_ your notice that we are now in the dungeons. The Slytherin Common room, and subsequently, the dormitories are, in fact, located in these lower levels." He didn't actually give any directions or even ways to remember the way he was now leading. "Unlike other Houses, we do not chose to advertise our Common Room's location by covering it's portal with a clamorous Painting. Instead you will be expected to remember its location, as well as a password. Again, unlike the others that only seldom change the passwords, and often on the whim of the Painting Guardians, I alone am responsible for the changing of the password and do so often and sporadically." His swaggering gait halted suddenly in front of a particular stretch of dank wall that was completely unremarkable from every other bit of dank wall in the dungeons. "_Ichchhadhari_" He spoke, not to her, but the wall and it suddenly shifted away, revealing a dark and narrow passage way. He stood aside and motioned his student to pass through before him."

After casting a curious glance at the portal, sticking her hands out as if to judge the width of the hall, she shrugged. "Let's hope there are no fat Slytherins." After voicing her concerns she passed through before him.


	6. Dungeons

_A/n; Alright, this chapter is a bit longer and a bit more boring I feel. Hope y'all like it. This chapter is dedicated to Plasmadragon007 and Isadora Flame, my 2 new reviewers, Wendy Waddles my faithful reviewer and the small handful of other less verbose readers that have added me to favorites/story alerts. You guys rock my green and black striped socks!  
_

When they emerged into the common rooms, it was mostly deserted, only a small trio of third years were still nestled in arm chairs by the fireplace, laughing about some unknown amusement. Casting a subtle glance around as she made her way down the flight of stone stairs to the main floor, she stopped behind the low, black leather couch that sat in front of her. Casually, she tossed her bag onto the seat and pushed herself up onto the back of the settee, perching herself contentedly.

Snape swooped down the stairs, and casting a glance across the room, he noticed the last students still lingering. "Malfoy, take your compatriots and retire." He growled at the younger boys. "The hour is late."

The slight, blond boy stood, but a sour expression crossed his juvenile face. "Sir, who is that and why is she allowed to stay?"

"I am not in the business of explaining myself to students. Go. Now."

"Yes, sir." The child sulked and set pace for the stone archway that lead to a downward spiral of stairs.

"There is to be no dueling or egregious uses of magic other then for the purpose of your schoolwork. No damage is to be done to the furniture, the wall hangings or the carpets. Curfew to be in the Common Rooms is by 9pm. Any wandering after such time in the Castle halls will result in a punishment I see fitting. You alone are responsible for whatever pet you may have. Any messes it may make in the common rooms are for you to clean, and should said pet become in anyway harmed or killed by running lose, you will have no one to blame but yourself."

"HAROLD!" She randomly screamed as he paused for breath, as if something he said triggered something she had forgotten. She then proceeded to topple over the back of the couch and frantically started rummaging through her knapsack. "HAROLD! Where are you? SPEAK TO ME??!!" First a mini-cauldron flew out of the bag, then a random green and black striped sock, a shrunken head followed closely by a large green bottle of Whiskey, that magically bounced and then floated gently to the floor.

"Miss Sova!" Snape snarled as he pulled the sock off his head quickly. "I will do you the favor of asking you what your purpose of this display is before I take away more points."

She paused from her frantic search. "You really want us Slyths to lose, don't you?" She sounded entirely unbothered, then went back to her ransacking. "I'm looking for Harold . . . he's my . . . OW! Found him . . ."

"If I can have your attention for just one more moment . . ." He dropped the stocking into her lap with a look of death. She pasted on her best attentive expression. "Breakfast begins at seven and is served until classes begin at nine. I expect all Slytherins to be prompt to their classes. Tomorrow, between breakfast and the start of classes all sixth years will meet with me to discuss their chosen curriculum and schedule. I will expect you to be on time, fed and in uniform. Now go. The girls dormitory is down the stairs and to the right. You will be in the third dorm on the left. I trust you will be able to find it yourself. Your roommates will be able to direct you anywhere else."

"But . . ."

"Goodnight, Miss Sova." And with that, he spun quickly on his heels and sped back up the stairs and through the passageway.

With a shrug, she shoved her pile of the bags contents back to it's original home, earning her an angered squeaky grunt. "Sorry Harold" She said, looking into the depth of the sack. She reached in and pulled out a disgruntled looking hedgehog.  
Toppling further off the settee, she belly-flopped onto the grey flagstone floor. The ornate green and silver Persian rug did little to soften the landing, but rather gave her a nasty carpet burn. She struggled to get up, her flailing arm dragging across the top of the intricately carved black wood coffee table caused a loud clatter as something small and heavy bounced of the back of her head. Harold, unperturbed by all the commotion or by having been sent flying a moment previously calmly climbed up onto her back and started nibbling on the ends of her hair. "Thanks, Harold . . . " Irritatedly shoving the little critter off her shoulder, she placed her palms on the floor in front of her and did an impressively athletic push up. Tucking her knees under her, she reached in front of her to grasp the culprit responsible for the throbbing in her skull.

In her hand, she held a small green snake, chiseled out of cool marble. She glanced at it quizzically, then turned to view from whence it came. Scattered across the table were others like it, some green, some silver. Centered, there was a large ornate board, also of carved marble with squares in the same colors.

An amused smile crossed her pointed features and quickly she gathered up all the snakes and placed them on the different squares. As soon as they were all set in place, they started to move, swaying back and forth in their positions, hissing across the expanse of the board to where the opposing colors sat. "Kings's Pawn to e4." She said after surveying for another moment, sending the adder two spaces forward. With another self-satisfied smirk, she picked up her bag from the floor, and headed towards the arch that the underclassmen boys had disappeared through earlier, the sound of Harold's small feet scratching against the stone floor as he scurried along behind her.

The spiral flight of stairs that lead further into the Castle's depths were steep and narrow, but Anezka seemed completely at ease on them, her fingers dragging along the grooves in the stone wall as she sauntered vaguely downward.

When she hit the cavernous landing she was presented with two more arches. "Now did he say right or left." She paused, trying to remember what directions she had been given only moments before. "Was it down the stairs to the left, third dorm on right, or down the stairs to the right third dorm on right? Or maybe it was left. Down, left, third left?"

As she pondered the maze, she didn't notice her pet attempting to follow her, each step down finding him mimicking her earlier descent from the couch, as she small critter dove off each stair belly-flopped onto the one below. Once he hit the bottom he looked up at her angrily, nibbled at her pant leg and then headed for the right path. With a shrug she followed. It was a shallow hallway, with heavy oak doors lining the way, iron candle sconces placed between them. After counting three sets of doors she was once again faced with the conundrum of which direction to turn, and once again Harold just nipped at her ankles and then started scratching at the door to Nezza's left.

Had the dungeon like doors given her the impression that the room, once entered, would be anything like close and shadowy hall, or even the cavernous and opulent common rooms, she would have been sorely mistaken. The circular room wasn't wide in diameter, but was given a large feel by the glass dome ceiling, the water of the lake above shimmering through the green and silver stained panes and casting shadows over the flagstone floor. Lined neatly along the walls were five beds, all identically made of wrought iron swirls and spirals and draped with green gossamer drapes floating gently from the canopy. Silver duvets made of eiderdown were topped by a mountain of pillows in a myriad of sizes, all either silver or green in hue.

In the dim lighting, Anezka could make out the shapes of sleeping forms on the 2 beds furthest from the door. The other three seemed unoccupied, and knowing her own knack for making noise, she quickly decided to lay claim to the bed nearest to her. Logic seemed to tell her the least amount of distance she had to cover the less chance there was of waking anyone up.

The fatal flaw in this logic was discovered, when upon tossing her sack onto the bed carelessly, the shrillest and most piercing scream ever heard to mankind started echoing off the ceiling, and a slender girl sat bolt upright in the bed.

No sooner had the screaming started then all the detailed wall sconces lit up and two more people were up and out of their beds. "Gretchen, what in Merlin's name . . ."

"Stupefy!"

Two voices clamored at the same time, but Nezza only heard the one firing a jinx at her, and hit the ground just before being hit by the stunning charm. After a quick tuck and roll maneuver, Nezza popped up from behind the bed where the first girl was still screaming, and using her bed as a barricade fired off a jinx in retaliation.

Suddenly, silence filled the air, except for the sound of gagging. It wasn't until the gagging turned into actual vomit that some one actually spoke. "Onyx? Are you okay?" The girl's question earned her a hard glare before more vomit spewed out of the pugnacious girl's mouth, causing Gretchen to start screaming again.

"Alright, what the hell have you done to my sis . . .Anezka?" The hard toned question turned into a confused expression, upon seeing the familiar spikes of hair that had been sharing a carriage with her hours previously.

"Oh, for the love of Christ," Anezka changed the target of her wand. "Silencio!" And with that, no matter how much her vocal chords strained, Gretchen's screams were silenced.

"What are you doing in here, Anezka? And what in the name of Merlin have you done to my sister?"

In response, Nezza grabbed her bag off Gretchen's lap and started rummaging through it. "Which one do you want me to answer first?"

"Um . . . . what's wrong with Onyx?" Jade's voice was starting to sound more like verbal versions of Gretchen's squalls.

"I hit her with a particularly nasty curse that causes everything you've ingested in the past 48 hours to become un-ingested in about 48 seconds." She finally found two items she was looking for, and pulled out a small silver case and a large box. With deft movement she extracted a large syringe from the silver case.

"What is THAT for."

Without ceasing for the conversation, Anezka pulled two ampules from the box and quickly started drawing liquid from one, then the other into the barrel of the syringe. "Well, if I don't counter it within the next, oh, 20 seconds, it's going to start coming out the other end too and she'll pass out into a catatonic state. As the counter curse is long and complicated, I have a potion antidote that is usually quicker to apply, cause trust me, you don't want me to try and cast it anyway. Last time I tried it, on Cousin Vali, he was constipated for a week." After flicking the tube three times, she crossed to where Onyx sat, looking both sick and worried.

Not bothering to ask permission, Nezza grabbed Onyx's arm, and after a perfunctory press at the bend, she jabbed the syringe in masterfully, injecting the liquid. Within second, the queasy expression passed from her face. "Remind me never to duel with you ever, ever, again." Any irritation she may have felt had been replaced with relief that her stomach was no longer revolvting.

"Nah, I'm a chicken-shit, if I hadn't have hit you with that one, I would have thrown out a blanket conjunctivitis curse and high-tailed it the hell outta dodge." Anezka rubbed over the injection spot firmly before standing and returning to the box the potions came from. Pulling out a small glass vial and tossed it across the room. "Think fast!" Luckily Onyx managed to catch it. "Its a restorative potion. After the shock wears off, you're going to notice that your a desperately dehydrated and feel like shit cause you're deficient on most nutrients your body need. That will bring everything up to balance." She sauntered over to one of the two beds that she now knew for certain were unoccupied.

After flicking her wand to clean up the mess created by her sister, Jade turned to face Anezka again. "So now my second question?" This earned her a blank stare. "Why are you in here, _attacking_ us?"

She blinked a few times, then shook her head. "Oh, yeah, that question. I'm your new roomie." Anezka's explanation was said with an assumed juvenille excitement that would seem fitting for most adolescent girls, but for just reasons seemed out of place for her.

"I told you she might be in Slytherin!" Onyx said between sips of the potion, which she had been pleased to find was sweet to the taste.

Jade only gave her twin a martyred sigh. "You don't seem happy to have me here Argent." More sarcasm from Nezza.

"Mother and Dad just said we had to be nice to you, they didn't say we had to be happy about it. Now, I for one, am going back to sleep. I get first dibs on the shower in the morning. Onyx goes after me. You can go sometime after Gretchen I suppose."

With the mention of her name, a pillow was launched at the back of Anezka's head. "Oh, sorry." Without even looking, she flicked her wand in that direction, removing the silencing charm, as Nezza face-planted into the pillows on the bed

"You scared me half to death!" Gretchen's now hoarse voice sounded accusatory.

"Well, you killed my ear drums, so we're about fair." Her voice was muffled, but her lack of concern was clear.

Realizing that she wasn't going to be able to start the argument she seemed to want, Gretchen too, settled back into her pillows. Once all the girls settled into the beds, the lights dimmed again.

As the epic series of events of the past three days began to take their toll on Nezza, she suddenly wished that she was in her own bed at home. Such a thought was a surprise her, and she quickly quelled it, and no sooner had such treacherous thoughts taken a hold of her mind, then they were gone, lost to the deep, dreamless slumber that took her over.


	7. Challenge

_a/n; just to change it up a bit, we are switching perspectives. Also, again, this chapter might be a little slow going. I was a scoche heavy-handed on the descriptors, but I keep finding visuals for diffrent things, so I feel the compulsive need to describe them. Hope you all enjoy! This chapter is dedicated to ALL my readers, everywhere - you following of my tale makes me feel so special! _

The Slytherin common room, in the moments just before dawn, was one of the only places in the entire world that Severus Snape would admit to feeling content in. It had been that way since his first morning there at the age of eleven. As the years had passed, he had grown a reputation for not being a morning person, but the truth was quite contrary. Admittedly, those early hours were when he was the most surly in reaction to his peers and students, but that had more to do with the fact that he was irked by their stupidity spoiling his solace.

Shortly, the over-achievers of his house would start to wake and prepare for the day and ruin the silent stillness. They were few and far between, he grudgingly admitted to himself. Most depended entirely on who their parents were and what social circles they ran in, to guarantee their grades and their future careers, test scores be damned. It bothered him to no end, especially that such lackadaisical and ignorant youth would someday hold positions of power. Not that he could ever voice that fear to any soul, living or otherwise. Oligarchies were only effective when the ruling elite _were_ actually elite in both mind and action. That was, in his long-considered opinion, what the House of Slytherin was to be founded on but it seemed most were happy to feel superior without actually being so. There were his select favorites, those that while their egos outstripped their abilities, they still managed to show at least a modicum of intelligence.

His feet followed the elaborate Labyrinth that formed of green marble inlaid into the greystone floor. Most thought this mere decoration, but he regarded it as the cleverest thing in the entire common room, and most mornings took a journey around its twisted path. As he gazed across the room his dark gaze noticed something out of the ordinary. The chess set between the settees, one of many but the most ornate of the collection, was suspended mid game. That was a common enough occurrence, he often encouraged his students to put their cunning to the test in the classic game, but the pieces positions were what gave him pause. Knowing their Head of House's fastidious nature, students put the pawns and kings and everything in between back in their appropriate places when the game was over. If the match was interrupted by class, food or sleep, they would stay in battle formation, but on this board, only one pawn had advanced. And it had not been that way last night. Any student who would have moved the adder piece should have induced at least one retaliating move.

It was an open challenge.

Without thinking, he stepped off the maze's path and crossed to the low table the chess board sat on, and after surveying the challengers move decided without second thought upon his favorite counter-move. "King's Pawn to e5." The snake lifted it's glossy green head in acknowledgement of the order and slithered it's way across two squares.

For reasons he barely acknowledged, this darkened his mood, and as the sun finally started shining through the murky filter of the lake and the stained glass skylight he beat a hasty retreat from the room, straight to his office. The early risers could meet him there for their course load meeting.

As he sat down at his crowded desk, all he craved was a cup of tea, but he could not be bothered to trek all the way to the Great Hall or even the much closer kitchens to procure one. With a few capable flicks of his wand, one of the many cauldrons he kept stored on hand was filled with water and fire lit under it. As he waited for the water to boil he shuffled the stacks of papers and student information.

To add to his already simmering aggravation, the papers he had been studying closely late into the night were still sitting atop everything else. The files on his new transfer student did not impress him and he had spent many hours trying to discern why she had been sorted into his House. Unfortunately, her paperwork offered no answers.

After flicking some tea leaves into the now rolling water, he started studying the parchments again. Anezka N.M. Sova, born 30th September 1976. All that told him was that she was almost a full year older then the rest of the 6th years and that her parents had bizarre ideas when it came to what names were appropriate for a child born in the slums of London. Her education had been spotty at best. At the age of 11 she had been accepted into both Durmstrang and Beauxbaton, but not Hogwarts. Her acceptance into Durmstrang confirmed her assertions that she was a pureblood, for that whole school was very blood status bound, although he imagined that with her mother's squib condition, that school would not have been a wise option. Either way, she clearly had attended neither. Her first year she had attended a day school in Mongolia, of all obscure places. After that, was a small select school in Crete. Her third and fourth years were spent at Muggle institutions in both India and Australia. This all culminated in a spotty attendance at The Brasillian School of Magic for her fifth year. It amazed him her OWL scores were as good as they were.

_Perchance I will be spared the girl's idiocy in Potions. Her presence would be both intolerable and nigh on dangerous._ With this thought he flipped to the next page and ran his finger down the list until he found his own subject.

_"Poções e __esbo__ç__os_ - _Avan__çado" _Whilst his understanding of the foreign language told him that she had an "Advanced" in "Potions and Draughts" he did not understand where _Avan__çado_ fell on the grade scale, and silently prayed that it was tantamount to a standard English "Acceptable". He looked to the bottom of the page and immediately below the last subject that she scored in was the translational and equivalency chart he sought.

_Avançado_ (Advanced) = Outstanding  
_acima da média _(Above Average) = Exceeds Expectations  
_média_ (Average) = Acceptable  
_abaixo da média _(Below Average) = Poor  
_falha_ (Fail) = Dreadful  
_falha épico _(epic fail) = Troll

Despite years of being able to contain his thoughts and emotions, he couldn't keep in the groan. He held something resembling hope that she would not be interested in pursuing NEWT level potions, but just on the off chance that she had any pretensions of a career that would require high levels of brewing, he also started concocting any reasons in his head to barr her from his classroom, as he stood and went across the room to fetch his tea.

Her clumsiness, perchance. Granted he had to keep that maladroit Longbottom child in his third year class, which was yet another pleasant thought to ruin his morning. However, very little of the assigned potions at that level could cause any damage that Snape himself couldn't undo. Not so with the Sixth Year brews. Whilst he could prevent most of the common catastrophes for those classes, even he had his limits, and a truly unfortunate accident could happen. Perhaps, he should allow her to have one. So what if one of the students was harmed? If it made sure that girl never stepped one toe into his classroom thereafter, then it was worth what ever price.

After pausing in his pondering to sip his tea, he immediately regretted the decision, and dumped the murky liquid out. He returned to his thoughts, and immediately thought better of letting one of the other students come to harm, if the occasion arose. His position as a Professor at this school was questioned and challenged enough, and the last thing Dumbledore needed was another reason for his sacking that the headmaster would have to negotiate and bluster away. And he had not wasted those first eleven years of teaching to have to leave his post now, as pleasing as the prospect of not having to deal with children ever again was to him.

Then in a moment of mental clarity, the answer presented itself to him. Who was to say that an _Avan__çado _was equivalent to the strong Outstanding that he required? Who was to say that the _Escola__ Má__gica__ De __Brasil_'s Potions and Draughts was half as intensive as his Potions curriculum? He already had a reputation of being the most exigent grader. Why couldn't he just high-brow her out of taking his class.

Content in this idea, and still craving a good cuppa, he set forth from the sanctity of his office for the Great Hall in a quest to push some breakfast around on a plate and to savor some dark Assam tea that didn't taste like swill.


	8. Mail

"Your sneer is not quite so baleful this morning, Severus. You might want to see to that." Dumbledore's smirk remained focused on his bowl of Coco Pops. His comment accomplished what it had warned against, as Snape's frown deepened. "There we are. That's more like it. What particular thing had that one inch closer to cheerful? Perhaps the addition of the indomitable Miss Sova made an impression last night."

"Indeed. An impression that she is menace to society and would be better of in Hufflepuff."

A look of absolute horror crossed the headmasters face. "Surely not Hufflepuff. She would eat them all alive!" His chuckle belied his expression.

"Gryffindor then!" He poured himself some tea from the Brown Betty that sat in the center of the table. "Wherever! All that matters is that she does NOT belong in with my Slytherins." Tea started to dribble down the side of it's cup as he carelessly combined cream and sugar. "She's careless, clumsy, ill-mannered and thinks Subtlety is an article of clothing." As he stirred he morning beverage a little more violently then entirely necessary, he let his dark gaze sweep across the group of students in question that were seated in the long table closest to the entrance wall.

It wasn't until there was a shocked clatter of china being lowered to table that Dumbledore looked up and saw what Snape saw. Sitting there with the small cluster of Slytherin 6th years, was the new student, in attendance at breakfast at a reasonable hour and in uniform - that is if a wrinkled shirt and a robe haphazardly thrown on in haste counted as uniform, which in Snape's opinion it did not.

For that matter, she barely looked alive not to mention, awake. Her as of yet unbrushed head was propped up in her hand and she yawned largely, bleary eyes unable to focus as she lazily started a spoon stirring in her coffee cup with a wave of her hand.

It wasn't until her head slowly slid from it's perch and face planted into her untouched eggs and toast, that Snape finally shot Dumbledore what was tantamount to a pleading expression. "This child is not going into my potions class. I won't have it. She's clumsy, disrespectful and frankly I do not cherish the idea of dealing with a student who's technique I know nothing of on the more complicated NEWT level classes."

"I understand your concern, dear boy, I do, but if she wants to pursue her potions studies, you have no choice."

"I _always _have a choice when it comes to what goes on in _my_ classroom." Snape snarled. "Who's to say that the tests are to the same level as they are here in Brazil. Who's to say the curriculum is up to par? What bad habits have been fostered in her brewing. I want only students in my NEWT classes that I feel confident in there test scores."

Before Dumbledore could counter with his concerns on how such a discrimination would look to the rest of the school and society, the Great Hall became clamorous with the loud hoots and screeches of the mail delivery. The Long-eared owl that was Dumbledore's favorite in the School's owlery swooped down with a small stack of letters as he did most mornings, and was, for a change accompanied by a smaller, more blue-grey bird, that sped towards Snape and dropped a very formal looking letter next to the plate bearing his toast.

More concerned with the bird, then with it's delivery, Snape stared at the hooked beak creature as it swooped around and started flying away, without even reducing it's speed. "Who uses falcons for mail delivery?" His tone was incredulous, and faintly irritated.

Finally looking up from the first letter he had opened, Dumbledore finally noticed the second bird as it left. "That's not a falcon, it is a Merlin."

Snape seemed unimpressed by the fact that Dumbledore wanted to be particular in the Falcons breed, and picked up the heavy parchment envelope. The front was covered in a careless, yet elegant scrawl, in a deep blue ink; _Professor Severus T. __Snape__, __Slytherin__ Head of House, Potions Master, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _Not bothering to inspect the seal on the back for some clue as to whom it was from, he opened it, and was startled at what he found.

At the top of the very fine paper was an embossed crest of a knot work, cylindrical tree. He didn't need Binns to tell him that it was a very old family crest, under which, inscribed in Old English was written "The Moste Ancient and Noble House of Myriddan". Upon reading those words, any interest he had in conversations was lost, and his attention became wrapped up in the letter

_Owin David Myriddan; __  
__Order of Merlin Judiciary - Director, Department of Magical Communications, Ministry of Magic – Ancestral Seat on Wizengamot – International Confederation of Wizards_

_2 September 1993_

_To Professor Severus T. Snape, Potions Master, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry__  
__Good Sir, _  
_My heartiest & best wishes for an excellent start to a successful new year! Whilst up until now I have not had the honour of any of my immediate family enjoying your mentorship, many of my extended kin as well as friends from the Ministry have children in attendance at Hogwarts, most of whom are in your most respected House. All speak highly of your teaching skills.__  
__On that note, I am pleased to say that one of my own, my granddaughter, Anezka-Nimue, is in attendance at Hogwarts this year. Upon receiving my mail this morning I was even more pleased to find a letter from her, sent late last night, informing me that she was sorted into Slytherin. I know that she is terribly excited as Potions has always been of special interest to her & is keen to learn much under your guidance.__  
__Also, while I am aware that dormitory assignments are often luck of the drawl, I much appreciate that she is rooming with the young Miss Argents. They come from an excellent family – my wife was an Argent – & their father, Jet Argent is a particular friend of mine. I know they will be fit companions for our Anezka-Nimue.__  
__I am sure as her Head of House, you will do all in your power to make this very large transition easier for her. Up until recently, She, My Daughter & Son-in-Law have been living with his family, The Sovas, in Romania. They are some foreign breed of Nobility or what-not, & are quite the movers & shakers in International circles. As such, Gwendolyn, my daughter has been traveling internationally the past five years. She tried her best to make sure that my grandchild received a good education, but this year found her traveling to Antarctica. While Australia's Ayres Rock Academy, where she had been enrolled previously, is not a far journey, we felt that neither their curriculum, nor the fact that she would have no guardians on the same continent, was appropriate. As Our family has always preferred Hogwart's more classical education, we were more then happy to take on responsibility for our granddaughter.__  
__But I digress. This letter is just by way of introduction & to let you know that if there are any questions, or (while I highly doubt their possibility) problems that need to be addressed, do not hesitate to write to myself or my lovely wife Beryl. I send you my many apologies in advance for what is sure to be our long delays in response. Now is a very hectic time for us, I fear. My Department at the Ministry is on red alert looking & waiting for any sign of this Black convict & I am very seldom at home, as my office is often inundated with letters.__  
__Please, if ever you find yourself by the Ministry, stop in. I will be sure to clear my busy schedule for you to shake your hand and share a drink._

_Warmest Regards,__Owin D. Myriddan_

"Well, I imagine that puts you in the awkward position of telling Mr. Myriddan that you are planning on debarring his beloved granddaughter from her favorite subject." Dumbledore said from where he was leaning over Snape's arm.

"In some countries it is illegal to read other people's correspondences." He didn't even cease in his rereading the letter to rebuke the Headmaster.  
Three times he inspected every word, reading not just the surface meaning but the intent, and what he found left a sour feeling in his stomach. This letter told him three things. First of all, this menace was from an excellent family who rubbed elbows with only the best and who were powerful forces in the Ministry, and abroad. He made a mental note to research both Myriddans and Sovas, and see where loyalties lay for both families. Just because he didn't recognize the names as either Death Eaters or former Order Members, didn't mean they were neither. He would be foolish to think that he knew everyone on either side. Secondly, there was going to be one more student who's shenanigans he'd have to ignore and wishes he'd have to cater to, due to the above realized familial connections. He was just so much more loathed to do so with this particularly irksome student. Finally, the third thing the letter was clearly telling him in it's flourished words and politic statements was that he was entirely on his own when it came to this girl. Of course, should the matter be urgent he could interrupt the busy lives of the Myriddans, and then go on to rue doing so next time he needed something at the ministry. That hand shake and drink was completely metaphorical, well he knew. It would behoove him to deal with things on his own, and leave them to their business, and such action will earn him favor in their eyes.

Looking up to spy on the Sova girl one more time, he was befuddled to see that she was watching him, bits of eggs still lingering in her hair. The expression she wore could only be described as inscrutable and if he wasn't unconvinced that Dumbledore wouldn't fire him on the spot he would have loved to perform some basic legilimency on her right then.

Contrary to his expectations, she did not look away when his cold glare met hers. Refusing to give her the satisfaction of his looking away first - he was a professor and could look and watch where he pleased, and who was she to stare at him - a brief staring contest ensued. What infuriated him the most was the fact that most people could barely even look at his face, and here was this impertinent urchin not breaking eye contact. Years wasted intimidating people, shot entirely to hell.

He was more then ready to sit there until the first class began, and then gleefully give her detention for being late, when she suddenly stood, and unblinkingly backed up all the way out of the great hall, avoiding all people with a surprising agility and disappeared out the door.

"Perhaps you should think about preparing for the meeting with your sixth years, Severus?"

"Indeed" He stood and swooped down the aisle between the tables, and made a bee line for his office, just wishing to encounter the wretch so he could give her detention. He'd think of a reason on the spot if he had to, though he couldn't even imagine her not giving him a just cause.

Disappointingly, he reached his office without incidents, and his luck ran through the first few of his student meetings. It wasn't until he was discussing the course load requirements for becoming a Hit Wizard with young Mr. Cassius, that his luck ran out.

"Am I late?" Anezka's alto drawled lazily as she meandered through the door.

"No. You are early. Go away. Wait your turn in the commons with the rest of the students" Snape sneered at her. "And fifty points for not knocking!" She just ignored him and wandered out of the room as if she hadn't interrupted something. "Well, if those are indeed your aspirations, you'd be best served by continuing in Transfiguration, Charms and Potions. Defense Against the Dark Arts might prove nominally useful provided the professor is any more competent this year then in years previous."

"Yes Sir. If I may sir, you should have had the Dark Arts profession." The boy said as he stood and collected his books.

"While normally I appreciate sycophantic displays, I can't be bothered today. Be gone, and send Sova in next. Best to have it over with." It startled him how used to saying her name he already was.

"Who, Sir?" Clearly, others were not used to hearing it.

"Sova. That dark-haired gadfly who just left."

Before the boy could make it to the door, she was already in the room and making herself comfortable in the recently vacated chair. "Gadfly? Is that even a word?"

"There is a library at the school. I am sure there is a dictionary in it. I suggest you make use of them. Now, this time is set aside to discuss what courses you are eligible to pursue and which ones would be beneficial to your future plans. Do you have any career aspirations, other then staying out of Azkaban?"

"Isn't is obvious? I want to be just like you when I grow up." Any one less skilled then Snape in the art of reading people might have taken her seriously, as her expression and voice were completely deadpan. It was something in the eyes and the twist of her small mouth that told him she was once again making a mockery of the questions asked of her.

"I believe the muggle phrase is "over my dead body". Now, name a profession." He pulled out a blank sheet of parchment to write notes on.

"I want to dedicate my professional life to tracking the migration patterns of fairies."

He jotted down 'Cyrptozoologist for _The Quibbler'. _"Now, what courses do you feel would most benefit this pursuit."

"Iuno." Her shrug and words were punctuated by a yawn.

"Miss Sova, I am not a man who views patience as a virtue, so do not test what little sources of forbearance I do possess. According to your credentials, the only courses you are not eligible to take are Arithmancy . . ."

A small, amused snort came from her. "Yeah, I think I gave poor Mestre Airas an ulcer. I sometimes get numbers backwards, like write them the wrong way and the like, and I may have, maybe, accidentally ended up predicting the end of the world. I mean, we were only supposed to do a basic project on the Aggripan meanings of our names. So, yeah. He failed me miserably"

"We shall spare Professor Vector then. It looks like you didn't even take a test in Diviniation."

"About that . . . . I was sorta, kinda maybe banned from the class." She looked sheepish.

"More doomsday prophecies? I thought Seers thrived on that sort of thing."

"Oh sure!" She brightened up for a moment. "My first semester there I wrote a 15 page dream journal entry about how at the turn of the century all magical technology is going to malfunction and all of the wizarding world will slip into Chaos and we'll all be bunkered down in our basements with 15 tons of tinned haggis and loo roll. She made me read it to the class! It was brill! Completely and utterly aaamzing. And all complete shit for that matter too, but whatever. It wasn't until the next semester that she gave me the ol' boot and forbade me from testing out."

"Dare I ask why."

"I spiked her tea with a laxative potion." She made this confession as if she was saying that she had changed the brew out for decaf. Snape's glare hardened. "What?! She deserved it, telling me she foresaw all these horrid things in my future. Stupid bitch. Telling me that I'm going to have 2 children, live as a muggle and have a respectable job. Filthy lies all of it! I still say she had no right to ban me from her class cause she couldn't prove that it was me what slipped her the poo-potion. I mean, I'm sorry, but 'I had a dream and it was you' would not hold up in a court of law, even if the judge was a half-wit deaf kid who thought the word gullible was written on the ceiling."

"As fascinating as this recounting of events is, what courses you _will_ be taking need to be decided. In an effort to keep this brief and sensible, I will list off each course, you will respond with a simple yes or no." She opened her mouth for a retort, but he denied her the opportunity. "Astronomy?"

"Is it held in an enchanted observatory, or actually outdoors at night?"

"We have a tower in which it's held,at midnight."

Anezka's face lit with a temporary manic joy and she clapped a little. "Wicked! I'm game for that."

Marking that as a chosen course Snape moved onto the next. "Charms?"

"Meh, why not, eh?"

Again, he scratched this on his notes. "Defense Against the Dark Arts? I would highly recommend this course for you." Let Lupin be just as tormented as he was to be. No reason for him to have it easy.

"Now, when you say Dark Arts . . ."

"I mean Arts. That are Dark. You are taking it." He growled then signed her up for the class, to which she just shrugged. "Professor Sprout would set a Fanged Geranium on me if I did not encourage you to take herbology. She will be very impressed by your scores."

"How many greenhouses do you have?"

With a martyred sigh, Snape looked up from his desk. He had been avoiding looking at the girl. She had an uncanny ability to anger him, just by returning his gaze. "Four. Yes or no to Herbology?"

Looking at him as if he was stupid, she nodded. "Uh, yeah. . . "

He responded in kind with a glower. "History."

"If I have too."

He wanted to argue with her and tell her she didn't have too, and really, her gallant attitude towards her education was infuriating, but he wanted to shorten this meeting and frankly, no student should know that they held such power. "Potions." He tried to say it quickly and nonchalantly.

"Fuck yes! I haven't had a good potions class since Crete. In Brazil, I was brewing stuff from five chapters ahead just to keep awake in class. Australia was even worse. Middle of a fucking huge desert. Twigs and sand do not equate to a fucking potion. Wankers!"

"I warn you now, I do not tolerate sloppy brewing in my classes, least of all my NEWT levels. If I find your skills are not up to par, I will dismiss you from my class, no matter if every person in your family sends me letters."

She smirked. "I told Grandad Owin not to write. Let me guess he went on and on about his ickle Anezka-Nimue. Don't know why the daft old git insist on using my middle name, as if Anezka wasn't a load enough."

"Be that as it may, while family connections are powerful enough to compel me to be generous in lower classes, I do not accept sub-par students past fifth year, even if they were related to Merlin himself." She had that inscrutable look again. It was somewhere between a smirk and a knowing smile. It drove him mad.

"You have been warned. There will be no grace period. First mistake and you are out." He found a grim pleasure in the thought of assigning the most advanced 6th year potion on the first day and having her fail miserably.

"Got it, no fuck ups, yeah yeah. Can we move it along here? I thought you had your knickers in a twist about keeping this brief – haha, knickers and briefs . .. " She paused to laugh at her own unintended pun. "Anyway, why not cut back on the soliloquizing about your snooty potions dogma and just ask me if I want to be in Transfig, which is next on the list, which I do want to take, so just write it down on that there paper and list off the rest of the classes."

All he could think of was that Minerva, if any one, could keep this girl contained. "Ancient Runes?"

"I'm a bit rusty, but sure."

"Care of Magical Creatures?" Yet another class he relished the thought of her taking, not in any spite against Hagrid, but rather subjecting her to whatever largely dangerous creatures Hagrid was going to unleash on the students.

"Nah, it's boring. If you grew up with what my family called pets you'd be bored with it too." She offered no explanation to this almost cryptic comment, and Snape wanted none.

"Muggle Studies?"

"Sure, why not. Good for a laugh. Maybe some nap time."

With only a shake of his head, he wrote this last course down and retreiving his wand, he quickly tapped the papers 3 times and all of the writing rearranged itself into a neat and orderly schedule, still in Snape's inky handwriting but with new details added, such as class times, text books required and equipment needed. He snatched it off the desk and handed it to her. "Now, be gone."

Taking the parchments she bunched them up in her hand and carelessly shoved them in the sack that hung of her shoulder. "Ta very much!" She trotted to the door. "Later, Snapeykins!"

For the first time in the many years he had been teaching, he almost felt sorry for his associates. He thanked his lucky stars that she had been the last student to sort out.


	9. Forging

_A/N; This chapter is dedicated to Brooke Erin who left me three such lovely reviews, but either wasn't signed in or doesn't have an account, so I couldn't message her back to thank her!. I'm glad you are enjoying and I love reviews, so keep 'em coming. In this chapter we shall learn more about our dubious heroine as her POV of her first morning at school is recounted. Hope you all like . . .  
_

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Insomnia had always plagued Anezka, from earlier ages then she was at that time, and her first morning of school was no different. After a few short hours of death-like sleep, she awoke. Dawn wasn't even thinking of arriving in the near future, but yet Nezza pulled herself from bed, causing the lights to start flickering on.

Somewhere in the brief hours of her sleep she had managed to kick her boots off, as well as socks, and now her bare feet tapped gently on the marble floor as she tiptoed around the room, inspecting every nook and cranny. The portrait of a young woman in eastern garb, dancing with snakes particularly enraptured her and she stood watching it, entranced for a full minute, until finally, she shook her head. "Right, I'm busting for a pee." She whispered to herself.  
Knowing full well that waking her roommates up to ask where the toilet was would be another disaster, she returned to her bed and pushing a sleeping Harold off her pillow, she retrieved her wand from where it was stashed underneath. She held it in the open palm of her hand and muttered the incantation as quietly as possible "_Requiro _Crapper" Quickly the birch-wood wand spun in her hand like a compass needle and pointed her to her left, to a door with a leaded glass panel, on the far edge of the circular room.

Upon pushing open the door, the lavatory was not nearly as bad as she had dreaded. Not nearly as good either. In the range of School Dormitory Bathrooms in her life, with Mongolia's being worst - a yurt with a small chamber pot in it - and Crete's being the best - the whole room was built around a waterfall for a shower - Hogwarts 6th year Slytherin girls bathroom was smack in the middle. It was worn, but not shoddy or dirty. The narrow room was windowless, and the floor to halfway up the wall was tiled with green tiles, the upper half, a silvery grey paint. A row of five antique bow-fronted sinks lined the walls to the right of the door, and to the left was a row of five toilet stalls. At the far end was an antique looking shower stall.

After testing out the plumbing, Nezza stood in front of one of the sinks and turned the silver knob on the left, and watched the steam come from the hot water pouring from the tap. Underneath the etched silver framed mirror were a complete history of student's names etched into the green tile - "Marcene Flint for Quidditch Captain", "Narcissa was here", "Green and Silver forever! ~ Amethyst Berica" "Miranda Loves Tom ~ 1942", "The Future Mrs. Druella Rosier-Black!", "Violetta Bulstrode". The names went on and on, back through history, and Nezza started to think what her epitaph should be.  
Cupping her hands under the water, she lowered her head into her palms, then looked herself face to wet face in the mirror. "This isn't going to be as easy as I thought."

Hogwarts was perhaps the premier magical school in the world. That she knew and was half of the school's appeal to her - the other half being her Mother's absolute hatred of the place. The challenge of the courses held such an excitement for her. What complicated the matter was one Severus Snape. He was clever, dammit. Too clever. And he wasn't going to make this simple. Most people saw her as a juvenile delinquent klutz, and that's how she wanted it. Some ignored it benignly, others tried to 'help' the 'obviously troubled child'. Snape seemed to want to ostracize her for it, punish her even, and above all, watch her like a hawk. She couldn't have that, from any of her professors, but him least of all.

"A plan, Sova. A cunning plan, is needed." Her own grey eyes glared back at her from the glass. Shuffling back into the dormitory, she grabbed her knapsack and her pet and made her way to the Common Rooms.

The fireplace hadn't been used yet that semester, and Nezza was glad for it. After climbing over the fire-dog, she sat herself down in the corner, nestled her little ball of spikes into her lap and then started rummaging in her bag. One hand pulled out a baggie of the cigarettes she had been burning the day before, the other hand, a brand new copy of _Hogwarts; A history_. She quickly lit up, then started flicking through the pages, looking for references to all things Slytherin.  
After reading up on her new House, she put the book aside and started to ponder aloud. "He's Slytherin. So he's cunning, ambitious, self-reliant and status obsessed. Course, I knew that already, with his whole 'you mean to tell me this _muggleborn_ has been placed in Slytherin' rant. Stupid git. Jade and Onyx are in here, course they would be, being pure-bloods, and didn't he call that little albino kid Malfrey, Mallface? Malfoy, that's it. That sounds familiar." She flipped through the book some more, and saw that not only were the Malfoys the only family in the history of the school to be all sorted into Slytherin, they were also large sponsors of the school and had a hereditary seat on the Board of Governors. "So, he's a hoy-palloy too." She pondered some more, then smirked. "Well, good thing I've got some big names in my corner too." She said looking down at her arms. "Hmm, Sovas or Myriddans? Definitely Myriddans."

She instantly sprung to action, stamping out her smoke on the fireplace wall, and tucking Harold into the front pocket of her bag. She held up her wand to apparate, but instead let out a string of colourful profanities when the anti-apparition jinxes kicked up. "And me without Floo powder!" She swore again looking at the fireplace. "The jinxes should only be over the school. If I get down to the station. . . . Oh, but those De-whosy-whatsits are all over the place." It was then that she noticed a book lying open on the couch by the fire. Picking it up she saw the title _Darkest of Creatures_.  
"Dementors, devoid of souls themselves, seek to take them from those who do. Sight they have not, nor any other sense of man, but instead are drawn to happiness, love, joy, kinship and comfort. These things are to them, like the smell of a feast to a starving man, and their mere presence will drain all goodness from a room. They answer only to those with power, who will let them feed, and are easily enough bribed away." She paused from her reading. "Suppose I could toss another student at them to distract them? Nah, too much work. Feeds on emotion . . . " No sooner had she said this then she dropped the book and darted back down to her dorm.

She was at the side of her trunk before the lights even could finish turning on, and was shoving aside shirts and socks and books and bottles, until she hit the wooden bottom. Or rather, the wooden false bottom. Lifting the panel up, there lay six rows of small vials all strapped down to the bottom with the phrase "In Case of Emergencies" written in red paint across the top. Running her fingers across them, trying to decided which one would be best, she settled on none of them until she reached the very bottom. Off to one side, at the far corner of the compartment, was a small brown bottle, individually labeled as "Better be a bloody great huge fucking emergency".

With a grin, she snatched it up, and pulled the cork. "This qualifies!" The smell finally wafted up to her and her nose wrinkled. "I hope." She shoved the vial in her pocket, then held out her wand. "_Requiro_ Exit"

Quickly the wand pointed her out of the room, into the hallway, and eventually up to the ground floor. "You've gotta be kidding me! 300 hundred students, a dozen professors and they only have one exit?" The large portcullis loomed in front of her, locked. "That has got to be against fire codes. "_Requiro_ ALTERNATE Exit." When the wand pointed her towards the stairs, she growled angrily. "No you stupid thing! I'm not jumping out of a window. Although . . ." With a shrug, she followed the guidance of her wand and found herself on the third floor. "Why do you keep telling me to exit here! There is no exit here! There is only a fugly statue of a deformed hag!" By this point she was beating her wand against the wall, behind a statue of a one-eyed witch.

"You're doing it wrong." If the voice behind her had been deeper, she would have been worried, but there was a certain amount of comfort in the fact that fifteen year old boys, who looked identical and like they were up to no good, were not on staff nor were they the kind to turn fellow mischief makers in.

"Well, hypothetically, if I wanted to do it correctly, just how would I do it? For that matter, WHAT would I be doing."

"The Secret Passage?" The first ginger boy said.

"To Hogsmeade?" The second contributed, both sounding as if she should know this already.

Anezka stopped and pondered, irate with her self for not thinking of secret passages. She should have known better. "Alright Tweedledum and Tweedledee, How do I get by?"

"Am I Tweedledee?"

"But I don't want to be Tweedledum!"

Holding back an ironic laugh, Anezka interrupted them. "Fight about it later!"

"Oh, right. Well, we'll tell you. Just make sure filch doesn't catch you. He's already scuppered five of our ways out. We'd be sore if we lost another." He leaned over to the statue and tapped on the humpback with his wand and whispered an incantation, making the witch statue reveal a tunnel. "Have fun."

"Don't do anything we would do." They motioned her forward past the one-eyed witch. "We're off to the kitchens."

They started walking away, until one of them paused. "Hey, what house are you in anyway?"

It was in that split second after the question that she looked down and saw the gold and red badge emblazoned on the school sweater the one was wearing over his pajamas. "I'm a Hufflepuff."

Their smiles grew. "Good on you! A hufflepuff troublemaker, who'd have thought!" And with that the disappeared down the hallway

Fishing the potion vial from her pocket, she looked at it for a moment then shoved it in her bag. "Guess I won't need you after all. Thank god!"

After a fair far distance, Nezza hit the end at which she found a trap door. Not much bothered to see what was on the other side, she just pulled out her wand, and with determination, destination and deliberation, apparated away.

She arrived, not so much with a pop as a fizzle, her destination being a large, sweeping greystone manor house. Or rather, one of the many shrubberies in the well manicured lawn that surrounded the elegant mansion. "There wasn't a bush there last time I was here!" She justified to Harold, who was glaring up at her from the front pocket of her bag.

Doing a duck and cover run, she darted from shrub, to tree, to bush to shrub, making her way serpentine style towards the stairs in front of the building. It wasn't until she was almost to the front door, that there was any kind of disturbance, caused by the door creaking open and a very disheveled and irate looking Steward appearing on the front stoop with a herd of small, yippy dogs, inciting Nezza to take a swan dive into the overgrown flower beds that lined the house walls.  
The Steward leaned against the lintel of the door, leaving free reign of the garden to the dogs.

Trying to escape notice Nezza attempted to belly crawl through the gorse. As she reached the corner of the building was when she felt small, pointy teeth digging at her pant leg. Looking behind her to see a cheerful brown and white face, she kicked her leg free only causing the dog to come forward and lick her face cheerfully. "Get! Go Away! Ick! No! I don't want your slobbery tongue up my nose!" She kept pawing at the dog who kept responding in kind, ears perked up and panting excitedly. When it was obvious that she didn't want to play was when he started yipping again. "SHHHHH! Oh fuck me!" She reached into her bag, that was resting on her back now, and pulled Harold out of his compartment. "You know what has to be done?" He squeaked a little, and then held perfectly still as she clad him in a little crash helmet and goggles that she pulled from a smaller pocket next to his. As soon as he was prepared, he curled himself up into a ball, all spikes bared. "Here pooch! Look at this. Come get the hedgie!" She shook Harold in front of the excitable Corgi, like a tennis ball, and once she was sure he wanted to play catch, she sat up and pitched a perfect curve-ball with the rolled up hedgie, the dog darting after it, it's short legs pumping as quickly as possible. Then, with a cautious look around, she stood, and darted around the back of the building.

It was in the kitchen wing, that she found a window of an obliging height, and with a few unlocking charms and anti-jinxes she crawled through, somersaulting haphazardly, yet landing quietly, into the pantry.

Knowing the layout of the house in the dark by instinct, she almost went ahead without light, but then recalled her grandmother's compulsive penchant for redecorating and quickly lit up her wand. After some near misses with large potted plants in random spots and the odd settee or two in the most peculiar of places, not to mention a few throw rugs on stair cases that seemed to her to be highly hazardous, she finally came upon the room she sought.  
It was on the third floor, and had small dormer windows to the back lawn and was mostly dominated by the fact that three of the walls were entirely obscured with floor to ceiling bookshelves, some full of leather bound tomes, some with ancient scrolls, as well as scores of newly printed books. By the far wall, nearest to the windows was a large round table, covered in papers, letters, quills and oddities. Behind this, was a shelf, home to more knickknack's and artifacts - a flower crown magically preserved for centuries, an hour glass with unmoving sand, a silver and gold cauldron of a non-standard size, a braid of hair and a shard of mirror. Meaningless to all outsiders, Anezka had each piece memorized, none of them moved or touched even in the many years since she had been in the house - this was one room that was exempt from the rearranging proclivities of the lady of the house.

With a brief smile, she quickly remembered all the stories attached to the items, but took no time to linger in her nostalgia, instead, seating herself at the writing table. Shuffling about she looked first for a blank sheet of paper, and was pleased to find a stack with the official family crest and her grandfather's hereditary title, embossed on the top, after which, she began to look for a page that had already been filled with the master of the offices writing.  
Perusing the letter, she studied every word, not so much for it's meaning,as for the verbosity, tone, style and script, then when she felt confident in knowing it by heart, she reached for the nearest quill and ink pot and began to write, her own horrendous script gone, instead replaced by one that imitated her grandfather's hand minutely.

_2 September 1993_

_To Professor Severus T. Snape, Potions Master, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry__  
__Good Sir, _  
_My heartiest & best wishes for an excellent start to a successful new year!_

Each word was carefully weighed and written, nothing unpremeditated and not one letter misprinted. She knew her grandfather's politic way of bandying words, and was certain of how Snape would interpret them.

With every paragraph, the meaning was clear, 'My Granddaughter is important, because I am important. Humor her eccentricities, even turn a blind eye to her more egregious faults, or regret it. And whatever you do, never, ever bother me about her, I'm far, far too busy. Perhaps if you can do these two simple things, I will see my way to returning the favor, which can only be a good thing for you.' That should more then suffice to keep him from doing something stupid like expelling her, or worse, fuck up her chances to take her Potions NEWTs. At the same time, it should also keep him from writing to her "legal guardians" to complain of her behaviour. The last thing she needed was Grandad Owin and Granddame Beryl finding out she was in the country unattended. If they heard that, they were sure to actually take the responsibility she had said they were when she forged their signatures on The Ministry's immigration papers. And that would just go and ruin all of her plans. She signed her grandfather's name with a dramatic flourish, enjoying the feeling of power that such furtive actions gave her. Folding the parchment with precision, she addressed the front and sealed it with melted wax and family crest press. With a sigh she stood, dreading the task that came next.

With another fizzle she left the office and apparated into one of the out buildings two acres away from the house. Everything about the Aviary was abhorrent to her - the sounds, the smell and worst of all, the birds. "As if Owls aren't bad enough, they have to use bloody falcons! Weirdos." She crossed to the most placid looking creature. "Look, you! Now, I don't like you, you don't like me, so lets just make this easy on both of us, comprende?" With little contact, and a handful of spells, she managed to get the letter attached to the bird's leg, then hit the floor the minute the bird took wing. Scurrying out of the building quickly, she stood outside, and scanned the horizon. "Harold? Come Back Harold! Where are you?" Upon not seeing his small form waddling as quickly as his little legs could carry him towards her, she once again reached for her want, and no sooner uttered "_Accio_ Harold!" then the small critter came whizzing into her waiting hand, being chased after by a herd of zealous Corgis, desperately trying to catch the round ball of spines. Eyes widening in horror, and with an exhorting peep from Harold, she managed to just miss being assailed by the small dogs, and found herself back in the tunnel from Hogwarts. With much sneaking, she managed to make it back to her dorm without being noticed by some of the early rising staff.

It was just before dawn when she hit the common rooms, after much fumbling and mispronunciation of the password, and was pleased to find it deserted. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she collapsed on the couch she had occupied the night before, and indulged in a self-pleased smile. That letter was a dead cert, and the Myriddan falcons were the fastest in the world, so should be there right in time for classes to start. It was her Letter of Marque, her get out of jail free card, and masterfully concocted, if she was being completely honest. There could be no suspicions of it being forged - the stationary, the seal, the handwriting, the delivery - it was all authentic.

Rolling over onto her side, she took note of the chess set. Someone had counter-moved. "Evan's Gambit, eh? Someone knows some chess. Kings Knight to F3" The snake crept its way around the Adder Pawn that was in front of it and into the decreed position. She had honestly thought that someone would move her piece back and start their own game, but perchance the board was enchanted, once a move was made, the game had to be seen through.  
Settling back onto the couch, Nezza felt sleep slowly creep back up on her, and the next thing she knew, she felt a wand poking her in the rib cage. "You do realize that breakfast is going to be over in half an hour, and your not even dressed yet." Jade and Onyx stood over her, her uniform fresh and her tie neatly fastened into perfect Windsor knots.

"Oh, well, shit . . . ." She rubbed the sleep-crispies from her eyes and sat up. "Gimme a quick minute and I'll go up to breakfast with you." All she heard as she nearly flew down the stairs, was admonitions, to make it quick. Throwing the skirt over her head, she dropped trou from underneath the grey wool, stepping out of the jeans as she quickly donned the first white button down shirt that came to hand, not bothering with the sweater, she snatched a tie, slung it around her neck, then started running out of the room, shoving an arm through one of the black student robes.

By the time they reached the Great Hall, the second wind of energy she got from her 2 hour nap was entirely spent, and it took every ounce of her concentration to hold her head up. Before she could even get her coffee doctored up in hopes that the caffeine and sugar would pep her up, she found herself face first in he breakfast plate.

Upon hearing the screeching and hoots as she daubed bacon grease and buttered toast from her face, her eyes instantly darted to the front of the hall, waiting to see if her grandfather's falcon would be amongst the owls. Snapes befuddled expression upon receiving the missive from the bird caused a smug feeling of pride that was only propagated upon seeing his expression become disturbed. She liked how easy he was to read. Watching him closely to see if there was any suspicion in his face, she was amused when his gaze caught hers. The world must have been afraid to look this man in the face because when she didn't look away, he became agitated and refused to go about his business. They would have sat like that for days, if the twins hadn't decided to get up, and bid her to come along to the common rooms until it was time for their meeting with Mr Grumpy-Pants.

Taking a final swill of the coffee and shoving a whole slice of toast into her mouth, and follwed Jade and Onyx out of the Great Hall. However, she quickly decided that a self-guided tour of the castle held more appeal then sitting in a basement, gossiping about classmates, complaining about professors and talking about cute boys. Slowing her pace, to fall behind the two girls, she waited until a gaggle of first years scurried along, looking desperately lost and ducked into the crowd, following them until she was out of sight and sound from the twins.

With a casual ease she darted in and out of hoards of students going to and from classes, always managing to keep inconspicuous, as she wandered the halls of the castle. It pleased her to no end to find all sorts of nooks and crannies, as well as hiding spaces and vastly amusing paintings and statues and ghosts. Reconnoitering in such antiquated and magical fortresses was always a favorite pastime of her since the age of seven, or at least it became so at that time, and she couldn't help but remember the day she first learned the spell she had put to good use earlier today.

_"I don't like it here, Tată,"_ Her seven year old voice whined in her memory._"Its cold all the time, and it's too big! I can't find anything. I don't want to live here. I wanna go home to London."__  
_

_"I know, __dragă mea, but I promise you, you will get used to the damp. Come summer, you will be glad for the Castle's chill." _Her father's ever patient voice, as he knelt in front of his small daughter echoed back. She smiled remembering the warm hug he gave her then. _"Besides, most little girls dream of living in a palace like this, and it's all yours! Think of all the adventures you could have."  
_

_"But what if I get lost! This isn't like home, at home I knew to follow the street signs."_ She felt the lump in her throat forming, even now, ten years later, remembering her childish fears and the tears that came with them. _"What if I can't find you, and you forget all about me?"  
_

His warm chuckle spanned the decade_. "That will never happen Anezka, I promise you. But, just in case . . . _" He stood and crossed to his wife's dresser, retrieving a brand new looking wand from it_. "I will show you a spell to use that will show you how to get to anything - the toilet, the kitchens, your bedchamber, and even me, if you need me badly. This is your Mama's wand. She has no use for it, so I will tell her to let you use it, but only on the condition that you swear to me that you will not use it for anything else_." His grey eyes that matched her own glinted sternly for a moment, as he saw her sceptical expression. Before she could protest this condition with any number of reasons or excuses, he cut her off_. "Do not argue me on this, child. And do not tempt my forgetfulness for I will remember this. You will be allowed to do all the magic you want when you are older and have been properly taught."  
_

_"Mama says that I'll be allowed to learn magic when mushrooms stop growing in shit."  
_

_"You will be taught, dragă, and you will be a very clever witch. But until then, no magic, save for this spell! Here, let me show you, hold out your hand_." She did so and he placed the wand that was the size of her arm on her opened palm_. "Hold the wand like this, and say 'Requiro' and whatever you need to find, and think very hard about how you need to find it, and the wand will point you in the correct direction, no matter where you are. And if you want to find me . . ._"

_"Requiro Tată!"_ She chanted quickly, not waiting for him to finish, and then laughed impishly when the wand spun around to point to her father. That spell had been her saving grace when she was just a small brat in a large fortress, and no matter how many important meetings, or complicated experiments she interupted when she went looking for him, he never got upset.

Suddenly, she pulled herself from her nostalgic reverie, and realized that she had lost all track of time. Swearing so loudly as to startle several paintings in the near vicinity, she immediately turned turn the stairs she had just climbed. "_Requiro_ Snapeykins office!" Figuring she was already late, she took her time getting to the dungeons, and was startled when upon meandering into Snape's office, he was still sitting with another student rather then looking angry at being kept waiting. She was sent away, but waited outside the door, listening at the keyhole.

"Well, if those are indeed your aspirations, you'd be best served by continuing in Transfiguration, Charms and Potions. Defense Against the Dark Arts might prove nominally useful provided the professor is any more competent this year then in years previous." Snape's deep voice was hardly audible.

"Yes Sir. If I may sir, you should have had the Dark Arts professor." The boy, Benedict, she thought his name was, was much easier to hear. His voice hadn't dropped yet, and she made a mental note to try and sell him some voice-deepening potion.

"While normally I appreciate sycophantic displays, I can't be bothered today. Be gone, and send Sova in next. Best to have it over with." She mentally gave her head of house a triple word point score.

"Who, Sir?" Clearly she hadn't become to infamous yet.

"Sova. That dark-haired gadfly who just left."

The man certainly had a way with words. "Gadfly? Is that even a word?"


	10. Monday

_a/n; this chapter is dedicated to my lovely friend Kelly who suggested Snape's favorite dance, and to my wonderful Beta reader, who inspired Nezza's lab partner._

* * *

Minerva McGonagall stood by her classroom door, waiting patiently for the last of her 6th year Transfiguration students to finish filtering in. While normally this class would take place immediately following lunch, there was always a lag, waiting for the students to finish getting the schedules sorted out. According to the roster that she had received that morning, she was still waiting on 3 more students in addition to 17 already seated, one of those 3 being the transfer student that Albus mentioned to her this morning at breakfast. Worried though she was, that adjusting to such a unfamiliar concept of a transfer student in her class would prove difficult, especially facing the challenges the school already was, she was more than keen to see what foreign educations foster in her field. She also couldn't help but feel for the girl, knowing even as little as she did. Grew up overseas, never in the same school more than a year, and now to be starting NEWT levels in a new school new country. . .  
Before she could ponder this more, an unfamiliar student scuttled towards the Transfiguration classroom. "Miss Sova, is it? How are you this morning?" She asked the dark haired girl.

"Bit hungover, now that you ask," The girl's words slurred, and McGonagall thought her accent was entirely more local then she had presumed it would be.

Trying to give the girl benefit of the doubt, Minerva settled with a disapproving raised eyebrow. "And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Ah, y'know, the usual. Wild, drunken orgies in the Slytherin common room."

"Somehow, I doubt Professor Snape sanctions such activities. Furthermore, I know better than to think that such things go on without his knowledge, so I'd hardly call it 'the usual'. Now, if you'd care to take your seat." She ushered the girl into the room, her aplomb not affected in the least by her Student's outlandish statement.

The girl shrugged as she continued. "Suppose you're right. He does seem more like the 'get drunk quietly in your room' type." Shuffling to the back row of desks, she threw her bag underneath the chair, and collapsed in it, looking much like a discarded rag doll.

"Alright class, settle into your seats please. I'd like to take a moment to say that I am pleased that so many have chosen to continue their Transfiguration studies into NEWT levels. However, like all years, I will remind you that this is a complex and dangerous magic, especially the advanced work you will be attempting. Do not think that having passed 5 years previously in this course entitles you to become indolent or so cocksure in your abilities that you are exempt from the rules. There will be no messing about in this class room or you are out." The stern professor made sure to make eye contact with every single student. That was her secret to success in teaching. Stare them down. Show no fear. Always worked. Little hooligans could seldom meet her steely glare. "Now, for our first lesson we are going to do a simple piece of work that you should all be more then familiar with, just to refresh our skills. On your desks you will find a bag of sand. I want you to transfigure it into a moving figurine. Extra credit will be given on whether or not the doll is recognizable as a specific person. House points to whoever makes their doll's movements the most creative. If you have any questions, you can consult the diagrams in the appendix of your text. You may begin."  
In a rush of robe sleeves and bags being shuffled, all the students seemed to reach simultaneously for their wands, and soon the class was abuzz with the sounds of 20 students comparing notes and muttering incantations that slowly started morphing the lumps in front of them into small, people shaped lumps.

As McGonagall paced the aisles, observing their progress and offering her assistance where needed, she was amused by the shapes the projects were taking - parents, siblings, friends, crushes and Quidditch stars - even a mini version of her herself, waving regally, transfigured by a particularly cloying Slytherin boy - and for each of these she had a comment or suggestion. It wasn't until she hit the furthest seat from the front that she found herself speechless.

There, atop the desk was an unmistakable likeness of Severus Snape, complete with swirling black robes and sullen expression, only he was . . . "Miss Sova? Why on earth do you have Professor Snape _dancing the Charleston_?" She tried to keep her tone even, struggling to hold back anger, mirth and admiration at the skilled transfiguration work.

* * *

"So, what do all the cool kids do during the free period?" Nezza quickly caught up to Jade and Onyx after finally being released from McGonagall's stern reprimands and admonitions to show more deference for the dignity of professors, as well as her quietly awarding of full marks and extra credit.

"Well . . . we're going to the toilet." Onyx offered, sounding unsure if that was the answer she was looking for.

"Right-oh then, I'll just follow you."

"Oh, do you have to go too?"

"Nah, I just am a firm believer in propagating the myth that girls have to flock to the bathroom."

Her companions thought such a statement was purely sarcastic, until, upon entering the girls 6th floor lavatory, she did not actually enter one of the stalls, but simply decided to seat herself on the edge of one of the sinks.

"So how bad did McGonagall yell at you for that stunt in Transfiguration?" Onyx tried to make conversation with their lavatory companion, from behind the stall door.

"Are you seriously making conversation while you wee? Ick." Nezza seemed truly appalled.

Oynxy 'eeped' in embarrassment, but Jade was undaunted. "Oh, please, your the weirdie that followed us in here. Chances are the Gryffindor Battle axe didn't bawl her out too badly. She's a sucker for anyone skilled at her own subject or Quidditch. Although, I'd be careful if I was you Anezka. Just because she didn't punish you for that, doesn't mean Snape won't flip shit if he hears about it. I mean, he's real good about making sure none of Slytherins serve detention or lose house points or anything like that. But he can still make your life a living hell, have no doubt."

"What'd I do? I just made a little dancing version of him! I'm sure the Charleston was really popular back in his day and age."

"He's not that old!" Onyx laughed a little, finally convinced it wouldn't be thought strange if she continued the conversation. "I heard Mum talking about him once. He was only a year or two behind her and Dad in school."

"Whatever. I mean, it could have been worse. I could have had him doing a Gavotte, or worse still, something modern like the Macarena or break dancing or what not . . . "

It was that exact moment, that a mousy looking Ravenclaw girl darted into the bathroom, and leaned over one of the vacant sinks, sniffing loudly and rubbing her puffy eyes.  
"You alright?"

The girl, she seemed to be about a seventh year, looked up, surprised. "Do you really want to know?"

Nezza shrugged. "Not really, just thought that was what I was supposed to say."

The girl didn't take that as a cue to be silent, but started to explain, pushing long brown curls away from where they were sticking to her tear stained face. "My boyfriend . . . " she disintegrated into tears.

"Oh, lord." Nezza gave a martyred sigh. "Dead or in jail?"

"Neither!" The girl looked shocked at such suggestions.

"Then what the fuck you crying over?"

She sniffled some more, wiped her nose on her sleeve and twisted her mouth into a sneer. "I haven't seen him all summer, and he's barely said two words to me since we got to school!" Nezza motioned her on, as if to say that hardly was a reason to cry. "I wouldn't mind that so much. I mean, I know he is Head Boy and all that and has loads to do. . . ." She started crying again. "As if it wasn't bad enough that that wretched, fat cow is in his house and gets to see him all the time, and that she and her friends are all conspiring to steal my boyfriend - I mean, really! It's the first day! How much studying could they need to do? Jumped up 6th years!" Her words were punctuated by hiccups and sniffs. "It's not my fault she has a bigger chest then I do!" She looked at Nezza for sympathy.

"Oh, another tits man. Aren't they all such charmers?" The girl started sobbing even worse. "Oh, well, hell, I got a potion what can help you with that!" Nezza pushed herself out of the edge of the sink.

The crying girl looked suspiciously at the Slytherin crest on the front of Nezza's robe. "I don't want to kill her!"

"Not _that_ kind of potion! What do you think I am? A flipping hit wizard!"

"Well, then, what kind of potion are you talking about."

Nezza grinned maniacal. "All's fair in love and war, including sabotage and plastic surgery in a potions jar." She darted for the door, motioning for the weeping girl to follow.

By the time her twin classmates emerged from their cubicles the room was abandoned. "I guess she really didn't have to go to the bathroom . . ."

* * *

Lupin didn't know what happened to his day. It had started well enough. Just first and third years earlier and the third year class did particularly well with his Boggart lesson. But now, as he scanned the current class, he felt a migraine coming on. He half wondered if Severus had set him up for this. The girl was his student after all, and probably not adverse to bribery

"Look, if I have a just reason to Avada Kadavra someone," The whole class gasped in shock at her use of the words. "who the bloody fuck are you or any old ponce in the ministry to tell me that it's Unforgivable?" He didn't even know when the subject had turned to the Unforgivables. He didn't even know if it should have come up. But here was this mouthy know-it-all Slytherin girl arguing Curse ethics with him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, in an attempt to fight the pain behind his eyes. "But what would you call 'just' cause?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course! I'm sure that Sirius Black thought he had 'just cause' to kill those ten Muggles."

"What if he did?" She tossed her head in challenge. "What if he did but some knob in the ministry decided that it's Unforgivable, and now every one's running around trying to kill the guy. What makes them any better than him?"

He didn't hear any further then the first four words. "How could the murder of ten innocent people be just." He tried not to raise his voice, with mixed success.

"Alright, let's put it in terms your morally colour blind eyes can cope with. What if, by killing ten innocent muggles, Melancholy Black, or whatever his name is, could have ended the war and spared thousands of people, muggle and wizards alike. Wouldn't those few be worth the many?"

"But what repercussions would there be? How many would die at the hands of that regime?"

She barely let him finish. "I'm not talking about He-who-shall-not-be-sane's dogma, and even if I was, who cares? I'm not arguing politics. You have to admit, all outside factors aside, ten dying to save ten thousand - it's obviously the greater good."

"The greater good? That is the exact turn of phrase used years ago to advance the idea of Pure-blood supremacy."

"Ok, fine! If good old Voldy where here, right now, unarmed and only guarded by three death eaters, would you kill those death eaters to get to him?" Her face could only be described as jeering.

"Absolutely!"

"Why?"

"To protect the world from his evil!"

"So In other words . . . for the greater good?"

"YES! I mean . . . no! Not like that . .. to protect the innocent . . ."

Grey eyes rolled in the girl's pointy face. "Uh-huh . . . So, you'd kill them cause your dogma tells you to for the greater good, just as they would kill you cause their dogma tells them the exact same thing."

He wondered why he was still arguing, but he couldn't stop himself. "Only, my actions would be ruled by moral consciousness of what is acceptable and humane, eliminating the Unforgivable curses."

"So you can jinx, curse and kill with any spell up to and including any slicing, stabbing, hacking, strangling, burning, drowning or all the above, and that is the moral high road, but a curse that is two simple words that will leave my enemy dead before they can even feel it is tantamount to putting babies on spikes. Yeah, ohh-kay. So glad I have such an upright, morally guided person teaching me what is dark."

"Are you quite finished?"

"For now, unless you keep going around saying stupid things."

"While I can't promise that I won't say anything else you will regard as 'stupid', I feel such philosophical debates are best suited to times outside of class. Now if you would all please to turn in your texts to page five," He knew, almost by instinct, that he had not won this argument, but he had most certainly not lost, just by virtue of having ended it at a stalemate. Too be sure, this would not be the last time there were such outbursts in his class, but as long as he could contain such debates to more appropriate times, he couldn't be upset. Perhaps she was misguided, but certainly not stupid. If nothing else, she knew how to set a verbal trap, and while it was a more Slytherin trait, Lupin couldn't help but regard it in certain esteem - a verbal battle fought bravely was no different from any other kind of battle.

* * *

"I haven't seen her since that spectacular exhibition in DADA." Onxy gossiped to her sister as she poked at her jacket potato, seated in her usual spot on bench at the middle of the Slytherin table.

"I know! Wasn't that insane, she barely speaks three words all morning, except to swear and occasionally say something random. Then all of a sudden, she won't shut up!" Jade stabbed a piece of fish with her fork. Anezka's quick disappearance after the last class and subsequent absence from lunch was sadly the most interesting subject of conversation. It was either her, or the Dementors, that whingey Potter kid and Sirius Black, and they were already _more_ than tired of that subject.

"Well, and thank god that Squiby third year Gryffindor had that boggart incident that will keep Professor Snape from hearing much about his dancing diminutive version from Transfiguration."  
Before they could speculate on how much more angry their Head of House would be if he knew that he was the subject of two student's projects, Nezza came running up the aisle of the Hall, shoes in one hand and and empty cauldron in the other. Flinging herself between the two girls, she grabbed a few dinner rolls and shoved them into her face, and started running back down towards the door.

"Cnt stpp, gttu gu slll smfing. . ." was all they could make out of her words.

"Guess she's not too hungry?"

* * *

"Which do you care to explain first, Miss Sova? The fact that you are late to your first potions class or the fact that you are barefooted?" The sixth year potions lesson had begun 15 minutes previously, and Snape had hoped that the missing student would stay missing, but was more irritated than disappointed when she came skidding into the dungeon, even more disheveled then when he last saw her after breakfast.

"Well, if you must know, I was late _because _I'm barefoot." This confession was made as if it was deeply personal. "Couldn't find my flipping shoes, could I?"

"I will spare myself and the other student's the reason they are missing."

Nezza nodded. "Probably wise. It's a tragic, cautionary tale involving myself, an unnamed intoxicant and a very badly aimed shrinking spell." She winced at the memory. "So, where do I sit?"  
Ignoring her feigned, bubbly excitement, Snape glanced around the dimly lit room, to find an empty seat for her. The class was mainly populated with Ravenclaws, a selection of the cleverest Slytherins, a handful of irksome Gryffindors, and one lone, brave Hufflepuff, who's brilliance with brewing earned him a grudging and silent respect from Snape. Mixing 2 houses cause enough problems, but as so few went onto NEWT level potions meant he had to deal with all four Houses in one class. It proved volatile at best.  
"Sit next to Rossi." He motioned to the tall, dark haired Hufflepuff, who had no partner sitting at his bench with him. "And make it quick." He mentally added _You shan't be in that seat long if I have my way_.

Her feet tapped against the chilled stone floor as she scuttled towards the assigned seat. "So, you're last name's Rossi, eh? Italian? _Il mio aeroscivolante è pieno di anguille._" She greeted merrily as she sat down.

"Um, I don't speak any Italian . . . I was born in Bedford." His kind brown eyes looked a touch concerned that he might offend her.

"Oh, thank fuck for that, neither do I!" She breathed deeply. "So, what we brewing?"

"Draught of living death." He nodded towards his cauldron that was letting off a characteristic blue steam.

Her cheeky grin deepened. "Starting off slow for the first class I see." Without hesitation, or being at all concerned with the boys look of wonder at her referring to this potion as 'easy', she procured for herself, without even consulting the book, her cauldron, a vial of asphodel, already infused with the wormwood tincture, Valerian roots and sopophorous beans.

By the time Snape started circling the room, she was lazily stirring the potion that was quickly fading from dark to light purple. "Miss Sova, I do not tolerate cheating in any form in my class. Clearly, you've induced Rossi to split his potion with you to catch up with the rest of the class."

"Really?" She gave a pointed look at what was bubbling away in the cauldron next to hers, where a very fine, yet still very dark potion bubbled. "You think? Wonder how I managed THAT then." She nodded down to her own concoction.

"Very well. What is your next step then?" She shot her professor an incredulous look, then grabbed the small cutting board that the sopophorous beans sat, next to the knife that was to be their doom.

While, she appeared to be entirely intent on extracting juice from the slumberous legumes, she didn't fail to notice the look of sheer terror and hatred that quickly flashed in Snape's dark glance as he watched her hands. With a quick fury, he snapped up the copy of Advanced Potion Making that sat before her untouched and flipped through the crisp and bright pages, flipping to page 10. Apparently, not finding what he sought on the page, he looked at her again. "Why are you deviating from the instructions in the text?"

"Well, about two years ago I was brewing some of this up, yeah, and I was completely toasted. And as I was coming back to add the Valerian, I tripped over my shoelaces - got a problem with them at times y'know, mum used to have to superglue them into a knot, but I still managed to get them undone . . . thats when Dad said that maybe he should invent a self-tying spell for shoe laces, so that like every time they'd come undone, they'd instantly tie themselves. Well mum just shot him a filthy look and went out and bought a set of velcro shoes at Marks and Spencer's, which I hated, till I discovered that they lit up, or well, I liked that quality until I discovered light up shoes aren't much good when you're trying to sneak out at night. . . "

"Come to the point Miss Sova!" Snape growled.

She froze, pondering for a moment to what her original point was. "Oh, yeah, so anyway, tripped over the laces and my hand landed on the cutting board, smishing the flat edge of the knife into the beans. Got so much juice outta them that I never went back to cutting them."

The look the professor shot the student was one torn between outrage, revulsion and something else entirely, which neither Nezza, nor even the man himself entirely understood. "I will fail you without hesitation if the potion fails to turn out perfectly."

With a roll of her eyes, she went back to her stirring, seven times anticlockwise, before she quickly changed directions and stirred once clockwise.

About to question this second divergence from the recipe, Snape stopped himself, fearing another ten minute soliloquy on her reasons. For the rest of the class, he watched her carefully, both appalled and amazed at how she handled herself in front of a cauldron. Gone where her clumsy movements and constant state of half distraction and in their place was a skilled, if albeit slightly unorthodox, method. A constant awareness of where her ingredients, combined with a calm ease defined her posture, and at least ten minutes before even his best student achieved a clear liquid, she was carefully pouring the draught into a vial. He almost was impressed.

However, the minute she stepped away from the desk, whatever little begrudging respect her brewing skills had earned her, was lost, either by the sight of her bare feet, or the fact that she approached his desk with a mocking bow. "Please sir, may I approach the bench, sir, if I may sir . . ."

He ignored her but quickly opened his palm to receive the vial holding her assignment, and set it aside without a word. It wasn't until after classes were over for the day that he was loathed to find that he couldn't give her anything other than full marks.

* * *

The last class had ended and Nezza had nowhere to be until dinner. She was the first back in the common rooms, having skipped out as soon as she handed Snape her potion, the others still waiting for the bell. She collapsed on what was quickly becoming her favorite couch and pulled a fist full of coins from her bag. "Two galleons, 5 sickles, 3 knuts, not bad for a first sale. Now if only I could find my shoes . . ." She looked at the end table and saw it was her move in the silent chess game against her unseen opponent. After a full ten minutes staring at the board she called her move, then curled into the corner of the couch. She was fast asleep and snoring by the time the first students started filtering in to while away their free time.


	11. Dinner

_A/n; Dedicated this time to Brooke Erin, The Salt Lake Queen and Amara Quinn. Brooke Erin, cause I had to disable annon. reviews but I hope she's still reading and enjoying, to The Salt Lake queen because you reinstate my faith in the milk of human kindness and Amara Quinn for proving you can be a harsh, honest critic without being mean and rude. Just a short chapter this time._

* * *

It was dinner time. As if having to deal with small chunks of the Student body and Staff throughout the day didn't irk him enough, they were all herded into the great hall for all three meals and he had to cope with humanity en masse. Stabbing angrily at the largely untouched meal before him he glowered out into the crowds of eating students. At the Gryffindor table, some seventh year girl seemed to be the center of all the boys attention at one end, and Potter and his cronies were gossiping at the other. Just like his abominable father. His gang of friends and he, all acting superior. Glancing up, whether to spy on him or one of the other staff members, Severus just managed to avoid the boy's green glare. God help him but that colour would forever unsettle him. That annoying boy would forever unsettle him. Those eyes should not be in that face.

"Good Evening Severus. I hope you've had a nice first day back in class." A low, drawing voice called his attention back, to where Lupin was pulling a chair out for himself and sitting down.

"And if I didn't, what do you propose to do about it?" The sweet, female voice that served as his conscious reprimanded Snape, telling him that Remus was just trying to be pleasant. He loved hearing that voice, despite never actually heeding to it. "Perhaps, you could conjure me an old lady's hat and coat?" He sharpened his words to a lethal blade.  
Remus had the audacity to chuckle. "Yes, I did hear rumors that you gave poor Longbottom a rather hard time about that. Perhaps if you weren't so hard on the boy he wouldn't be so scared of you?'  
What was meant as a growl, he managed to disguise as a muffled 'mmm-hhh' but Snapes eye roll was more noticable. "And perhaps if you did not encourage such disrespect in the students, I would not have to be so firm."

"Come off it, Severus. You know as well as I do that the only effective way to combat a Boggart is the Riddikulus spell, and if Neville can think of nothing that scares him more then you, what else am I to do? It is hardly my fault you terrify the lad. Besides, you are hardly one to talk. That sixth year girl of yours, Anezka, she could certainly teach any student a thing or two about disrespect. You mean to tell me that you did not have anything to do with that?"

"Nothing at all." He managed to keep his tone clipped. "She was a transfer student, and if I had my way she would not even be in this school none the less my house. Not that I feel I owe an explanation to a . . . " He managed to halt his sentence, pleased with the fact that his near slip made his peer squirm. "A man who's past and school yard transgressions are less then exemplary."

The irritation that was evident in Lupin's tones were replaced by a tone of melancholy. "When are you going to let the past die, Severus?"

"The past does not die. It will always live in those who remember. My memory, I assure you, is a strong one." Snape stood up quickly, pushing his plate away. "Now, I must go start brewing _your_ potion."

He had already stepped off the head table dais when Lupin calling his name made him hesitate and offer a glance back. "Thank you."

He turned back around and continued walking. "I do not do it for the thanks." He growled.

"But I am grateful anyway."

As he stormed away without response, his conscious's voice started up in his head again, but this time it was a memory and not simply his imagination.

_"I'd think you'd really like Remus if you gave him half a chance, Sev. He is clever and smart. He is one of the reasons I put up with the other two."_ The voice was sweet and young, and pleaded with a younger version of himself.

_"I do not want to give him half a chance if it means having to put up with his nit-wit friends. You can tell alot about a person by their friends"  
_

_"Well, what about you? You are one to talk. Look at your friends. That slimy seventh year Malfoy? And those creepers Mulciber and Avery."  
_

_"They are the only ones in this place that treat me like an equal. Besides, they are not really my friends, they are just people I spend time with. Time I would rather spend with you, but you are always too busy __with your Gryffindor pals."  
_

_"I'm sorry, Sev, I don't mean to. They really are nice boys, once you get to know them. I want us to have the same friends so we can spend more time together."  
_

_"So spend time with __**me! **__I don't want to be friends with them."  
_

"I don't WANT to be friends with her! She's weird, draws entirely too much attention to herself, has no sense of personal grooming to speak of. . ." Snape was drawn from his reminiscing by the sound of two of his Slytherins bickering at the table they sat at, eating their meal.

The darker haired Argent girl looked forlornly at her sister. "I _know_. I mean, she's positively terrifying. Hasn't she ever heard of a comb? And she's so rebellious - as if we Slytherins didn't have a hard enough time being slated as the 'bad kids'. Uhg. But we promised Mum and Dad that we'd be nice to her."

"No, we promised to be friendly and show her around, and frankly not laughing in her face and telling her to bugger off is _very_ friendly, if you ask me, considering the circumstances. I can't fathom how that girl could possibly be related to one of the finest families in England."

Onyx sighed. "Be that as it may, I still feel badly that we didn't wake her for dinner." It was the first time that Snape noticed that the newest thorn in his side was not present anywhere in the great hall. "I mean, she's barely eaten anything all day."

"Really Onyx, it's not our job to baby-sit the nuisance. If she wants to snore away the entire evening on the common room couch, I am not going to waste my time trying to wake her."

Suddenly, a certain amount of paranoia settled into Snape's gut that Sova was unattended in the common rooms, or worse still, had woken and was unaccounted for. Wild imaginings of the havoc she could cause flashed in his mind, and in a swish of fabric, he beat a quick path to the Great Hall's doors and the staircase to the lower levels.

The common room was oddly serene when he strutted through the passageway. A combination of a flickering of the fire and the light playing through the water in the lake above them cast dancing shadows on the room, and all seemed to be in order. Finding it such almost made him more concerned.

The only changes since the morning were random library books lying about and another chess piece moved in retaliation to the move he had made over lunch. At the time, he wasn't sure why he decided to make an extraneous trip just to see if there had been any changes to the game, but he found himself grudgingly enjoying the mental challenge. Instantly, he found himself forgetting his search for the troublemaker, and focusing his acumen on his next move. So far they had played the opening Gambit move for move, and with a quick word to the python that served as knight and it quickly slithered it's way around the piece in front of it, and taking the place one square in front of and to the right of the adder pawn.

It was then that he heard an odd gurgling, followed by a staccato rasping. Looking up abruptly he finally saw the object of his search almost obscured by couch cushions. The disturbed astonishment that he felt at such a strident snore should come out of a young girl overshadowed his brief realization that the gurgling was from her stomach. Taking a moment, he glanced the girl over, truly looking at her for the first time. She almost looked frail - entirely to slight for her age and height. Her complexion, while naturally pale, seemed far to wan and pinched for someone so young.

Far from instilling any kind of sympathy in him, her unhealthy aura angered and irritated him, serving to confirm his steady growing belief that she had no business in his house. She had no subtlety, no ambition and clearly even her sense of self-preservation was wanting. Pulling out his wand, he quickly summoned a plate of food from the kitchens, leaving by the settee on the end table. While he wanted nothing to do with her, he could not tolerate the scrutiny he'd face if one of his students died of starvation.

He left the room as quickly as he came, not bothering to think of if she would think to eat the food when she woke, nor who his mysterious chess competitor was, nor even his memories from his own school days. All he could think of was that he wanted to retreat from the day to his bed, but that he had better patrol the halls and make sure no one was getting in to hurt Potter, nor that anyone was getting out to be hurt by Dementors.


	12. Tuesday

Once again, Anezka found herself waking a few hours before dawn, stiff from the odd angle she had contorted herself into on the couch. The fireplace was still smoldering from the fire that had been lit the previous evening to combat the basement chill, depriving her of a spot to smoke without anyone smelling. Realizing that finding a place to take a drag was going to be even more complicated than finding the time, she swore crankily as she stretched. The thought crossed her mind that maybe it was time she quit. She'd only concocted and started smoking the things cause it was her mother's most hated habits, coffee, smoking and mild narcotics all wrapped up with magic.

With a yawn she stretched on to find her hand smacking into something cold and lumpy. "Uhhhh . . . what a stupid place to leave a plate of congealed pot roast!" Wiping her hand on the side of her shirt, she finished sitting upright and realized that she was famished. With a longing look at the pot roast, she wondered why and by whom it was left. A quick warming spell would make it edible again, but her suspicious nature got the better or her. No one would have left it for her. The Argent girls frankly didn't seem that nice, and she hadn't really talked to anyone else, so she highly doubted one of her classmates had left it. Even more dubious of an idea was that Snape had left it - and if he had, surely it was poisoned. With a small laugh, she reveled in the fact that her plan had worked thus far. She loved how the man so obviously felt trapped. He hated her but feared familial retribution if he did more than just yelled at her. That transfig Prof though, she was going to be a tough one. Anezka wondered what her name was again - MacOgle, Goggles? The thought crossed her mind that she really ought to do something about her short-term memory or lack thereof but she shrugged it off and finished standing. Taking a final longing glance at the plate, she finally reached over and shoved a few forkfuls in her mouth. After choking down a few bites, she reached for a cig and realized once again that she couldn't smoke it in the common room and felt that wandering the castle two early mornings in a row might be risky. Instead, she pulled out her Discman, deciding if she couldn't have physical stimulation, then she might as well have mental.

Within ten seconds of doing so, the plastic device was bouncing off one of the coarse stone walls, shattering into a thousand shards. The noise of it breaking was only overshadowed by her loud profanity. She had not realized that her muggle device would not work, despite all the enchantments she had put on it and now as she looked regretfully at the broken pieces on the floor, wishing she had put a cushioning spell on it.

"Well, there's nothing for it. Going to have to get the radio." Musical devices were the one place that Anezka believed the muggle had far outstripped the magical, but yet, stashed away somewhere in her trunk was a seldom used magical radio that would have to do. In the end it was for the best as she only owned about four CDs, three of which were bought by her mother, so were of course, useless and annoying music.

After having found her way in the dark to her room, she shuffled quietly, hoping to avoid a replay of the scene from the previous night. After successfully finding the radio wrapped up in an old t-shirt, she shoved it under an arm, grabbed a clean-ish uniform from the pile of laundry she had removed from the trunk in her search and headed to the bathroom.

After setting up the radio on the edge of one of the sinks and tuning into the WWN, she started the water in the shower. As the newscast, blathering on and on about the hunt for Sirius Black, droned on, she quickly stripped down and stepped under the water, enjoying to warmth. With half an ear she listened to all the updates, and wondered vaguely why the ministry had sent Dementors to Hogwarts. As far as she could tell 'to protect the children' was just a bunch of PR to make it sound like a good idea. Nasty buggers they were, to her mind. Her rule was never trust anything if you couldn't easily slit its throat, but clearly the British Ministry had different ideas.  
The news ended and music suddenly filled the room, along with Nezza's very shaky and not all together on key alto, singing along. "_Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone? It's left me for a spell . . . _"

"Oh, dear sweet baby Merlin, I do not know which is more terrifying, the fact that you are singing along to _Celestina Warbeck_, or how _badly_ you are singing along." Dawn had come by this time and Jade had risen and arrived in the bathroom for her morning primping.  
Nezza stuck her damp head out of the shower. "What? I fuckin' LOVE this song!"

A horrified smile crossed the girl's face. "You know, somehow that doesn't surprise me."

* * *

_Herbology, break, Charms, lunch, Muggle Studies, Ancient Runes_. The paper listing Nezza's classes for the day glared in the morning light of the Great Hall, next to her breakfast plate. "Well, my day is starting on a high note then quickly nose-diving into an ever descending spiral down the toilet." She said to no one in particular. "Might as well say, Herbology, boredom, wand-waving, food, nap time and hell." Gretchen tried to give a sympathetic smile around the piece of dry toast she was eating, even though her eyes were on the tray full of sausages.

Jade didn't even look up from where her nose was scraping her Divination text, except to roll her eyes and quietly kick her sister under the table when she spoke up. "Could be worse, you could have History of Magic in the same day too." Onyx said.

"So, what's the Prof - what's her name? - for Herbology like? Any good, or just one of those tool bags that is better talking to plants then human beings?"

"Oh, Professor Sprout is alright. Her classes are usually interesting enough, and definitely a fair grader. Though, I'm not continuing on with Herbology. We both will be in Ancient Runes with you though."

"Goody?" There was what seemed to be a chink in the sarcastic tone that permeated Nezza's words. It was almost as if she truly didn't know whether or not she was supposed to be excited or even remotely pleased by the prospect of sharing a class with the twins.

"I have Herbology as well, do you need me to show you the way?" Gretchen finally spoke up, washing her toast down with some black tea, no sugar.

Anezka's face was a mix of incredulity and humor. "What, you mean the big glass buildings next to the castle?" Gretchen nodded, clearly not picking up on the sardonic tone. "Yeah, I think I can manage thanks." The words, while not entirely sincere, were not spoken meanly. She followed this by lifting up a tray in offering. "Chocolate scone?"

Gretchen's eyes grew large and greedy, and her hand slowly reached for one, then quickly dropped. "No thanks." She growled a cranky tone in her voice and walked away, covering her nose and mouth, as if to block out all hunger-inducing smells.

"Poor Gretch. I think not only did you compromise her diet, but that you also foiled her attempts to make you her new best friend. I must say that's the first clever thing you've done since you arrived." Onyx quipped.

"Why's that?"

"Well, let's see, she simple and selfish, to start off with." Jade started

Onyx nodded. "Yes, but even those we couldn't really hold against her. But she's also petty, vain and vindictive. We should know as we've shared a dorm with her for the past five years. I mean, we even tried being nice the first few terms."

Anezka snorted by way of a laugh. "That long, eh?"

"Yes, well she didn't give us much inclination to keep trying, seeing as she copied my second year end of term Astrology essay, and turned it in before me so I couldn't get any credit for it."

"_And_ started telling everyone that our parents were avid supporters of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

"Aren't they?"

"They have more important things to do then trail around on some maniac's coattails." Jade scoffed at Anezka's question. "In general she's sneaky and mean."

"And that is diffrent from any other Slytherin . . . how?"

The girls sighed in unison. "Because she's stupid enough that everyone knows that she's doing it."

* * *

Nezza skipped out of breakfast early. Her absences from meals were becoming common in the short day that she had been at school, but for the first time out of the past three meals, she actually missed part of her meal time to be early to class.

Inhaling deeply the minute she was in the greenhouse, she felt a sense of tranquillity wash over her along with the familiar scents of potting soil, greens and the sweet scent of Valerian flowers. Looking around to get her bearings as to how the greenhouse was laid out, she didn't notice when a short, middle aged witch who was just a little podgy, entered in behind her, trowel in hand, dirt under fingernails. "Yes, this one is one of my favorite of the greenhouses, as well. The smell is glorious in here, isn't it?"

The kind question gave Nezza a start, making her trip ever so slightly over her own feet. "Yeah, I smell Valerian, belladonna and what's that third scent?"

"Most likely the aconite. It too has a sweet smell. I always found it curious how the poisons always smell the nicest." The professor paused, sized up the girl in front of her and smiled. "You must be Anezka, the new girl."

Her black brow arched. "Must I be? Cause, really, I'm not that new. I've got at least two previous owners."

The professor laughed, a merry, earthy laugh. "Aren't you clever? I'm Professor Sprout. I was quite keen to have you in my class when I saw your transcripts. I understand your mother is an Herb Witch?"

Anezka face contorted in an inscrutable mix of suspicion and concern. "Yeah, she is. So?"

Again, Sprout chuckled mirthfully. "I was always fascinated by the concept. Is it true that she has no magical capabilities?"

"Nope. Not a bit. Total squib. Can't even make a wand fuckin' spark."

"Would you mind not using such language, please?" The words were kindly spoken, yet firm.

She shrugged. "It's your greenhouse. But anyway, yeah, she can't cast for shi . . . she can't cast at all, charms scare her, and the only things she sees in her tea leaves are whether or not she was drinking Assam or oolong."

"But she can brew?" Sprout's attention was rapt.

"Weeeell . . . 'brew' is such a generic term. I've seen first years brew better draughts, but she's pretty handy by way of cold-remedies and burn salves and memory potions. Most of 'em are based in holistic muggle remedies and the like, but incorporating some of the more magical plants. Some good sedatives . . .but yeah. I've practically grown up in one of these. She can make any plant grow like no bodies business." She gestured widely to encompass the greenhouse.

"Well, she must have taught you well, your Herbology scores on the OWLS were astounding despite your hectic school schedule the past few years."

"The fact that we were traveling specifically to study different cultures herbs and remedies _might_ have had something to do with it too. Just a thought." The professor ignored the first sign of the student's reputed attitude in what had so far been a pleasant enough conversation and proclaimed that she hadn't realized that had been the purpose of Anezka's family's sojourning. "Yeah. Mum had a start-up business. We traveled all over the place. Got a loan from her Dad so she could rent out shop space in each place we went. I learned about some crazy wicked plants but the company went bust last year."

"A pity." Sprout tutted. "Why?"

"Well, when the stupid bint left dad, she went broke trying to buy muggle plane tickets all the damn time, when she couldn't side-along apperate or port-key with him anymore. That's why I came here."

Before Sprout could express any sympathy, concern or intrigue at this information, other students started wandering into the conservatory from breakfast. "Alright class, please hurry along to your benches. We've got a busy session for our first class. We are harvesting the last of the Mandrakes from last year and preserving them before they wilt entirely. Please make sure to wear your ear protection, just because they are wilting does not mean their screaming is not as potent."

As the class started their task, the plants screams started echoing in the glass building and Nezza pulled the large potted plant to her. Pulling the plant, she discovered that its roots resembled a wizened old man, which looked something like her great uncle Ludis. It's gnarled and dirt speckled face sneered at her and started screaming loudly, and an idea that had often surfaced in her imagination when reading about mandrakes overtook her imagination.

Professor Sprout didn't know what to make of the noise that she heard over the sound of the plants, until she hurried to the back of the classroom. "Miss Sova! If you scream back at the mandrake, it _will not_ pass out."

* * *

Doc Marten boots were not entirely conducive to running, but that didn't stop Anezka from tearing a reckless trail across the green and into the main entrance of the castle. She had to see an unfortunately pimply fifth year about an acne solution, but first had to run all the way to her dorms to collect said solution, and then out to the Quidditch pitch, and back to the third floor for Charms at the end of her break. She was not one for athletics, but if running meant a galleon and a half per bottle of a potion she had a full stock of then so be it. If it also meant asphyxiation from the panting for breath, then so be that as well.

Skidding dangerously parallel to the ground, she rounded the last corner on the way to the third floor stair case, taking very little heed to what first years and house elves had to jump from her path. She merely held her head down and charged, only stopping when she collided into something hard and unyielding. Her proclamations of surprise and discomfort where echoed by the sound on bottles chinking on the ground, magically not breaking.

"What in Merlin's name!"

"OW!" She rubbed her head and it was then she saw the tall, imposing figure looming over where she now sat, sprawled on the ground from bouncing off the professor, the vials he carried scattered around her legs.

"I will have you know that your running around like a three-legged Hippogriff has cost me a month's worth of brewing and a full year's supply of Madame Pomfry's favorite cough potion."

She glanced down at the ampoules that occupied the floor with her. "They aren't broken, y'know." She held one up as proof that her snide comment was true.

"Amazingly, Miss Sova, even I am capable of a simple cushioning charm. However, unlike the inferior, commercially produced cold potions, this particular brew cannot be jostled or shaken until the moment of consumption, and there is no way to cease the activation of the draught after it's been agitated."

"Really? That's pretty damned clever. . . ." If he had listened to her words more closely, he might have noted the actual admiration in her tone, but simply heard the sarcasm instead.

"I'm thrilled that you think so. You can continue in your wonderment during the detentions you will be serving with me every evening until the brew is replaced."

"Aww, Snapeykins . . . you do care! Y'know, if you were lonely, you could've just invited me over for a cup of tea or something."

Her farcical remarks only served to deepen his frown. "Ten points for your flippant remarks," He paused and pulled and worn, silver pocket watch from his waistcoat. "And another ten for being late to your Charms Class."

She followed suit but the time piece she looked at was a bright pink swatch that was tragically worn around the edges. "So I get the whole discouraging bad behavior thing and all, but it's going to look really shitty if your house loses the Cup cause you take away points for something that hasn't happened. I've got a minute and fourteen seconds before I'm late."

"And you intend to run all the way up the flight of stairs and down the entire length of the third floor corridor, risking collision and injury to others, just so you will not be considered tardy?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Snape considered for a moment. "The points will remain off unless you are firmly seated in the Classroom before the last stroke of the bell with no collateral damage along the way."

She left in a blur, the sounds of shoelaces tapping against the floor and murmured curses echoing back to where Snape gathered up the now ruined potions.

* * *

"Right on time Miss Sova, how excellent." Professor Flitwick smiled merrily as Anezka dove for the first available desk, almost overshooting herself and narrowly escaping a crash landing to the floor with pin wheeling arms. He seemed entirely unbothered by her hurried punctuality, flailing limbs or gasping for breath.

"My . . . pleasure . . . " She wheezed.

"Class, I'm sure not all of you have had a chance to be formally introduced to our newest student." Flitwick chirped kindly, gesturing to the girl. "This is Anezka Sova, recently returned to England from .. . Bulgaria, was it?"

"Romania . . . " It was the quietest word that had come from Anezka's mouth since she arrived. Being the center of attention was one thing - she was good at that and quite enjoyed being so on her own terms. But being presented in front of twenty students by a teacher unnerved her, despite it having happened often in her life.

Twenty pairs of eyes turned to look at her. Rather, eighteen pairs of eyes turned to look at her while Onyx pretended to be tying her shoe and Jade kept a rapt attention on her fingernails as if she found them entirely scintillating. "I'm sure those of you that have already met her will continue to show her around, and that those of you who haven't will be sure to give themselves friendly introduction. Now, let us go over the syllabus for this year's class." With the smoothest swish and flick of a wrist, Flitwick sent scrolls of parchments floating to each desk. "As you will see, most of this first term is going to be focusing on the rather tricky Aguamenti charm, with a few breaks here and there. We shall test out on that charm after the New Year and begin our second term projects, Confundis and Obliviate and all of their modifications. That will take us to Easter break after which time we will start on the Fidelius charm. Now, if you would all please retrieve your wands . . ."

Nezza shrank back into her seat, breathing a sigh of relief that everyone was now looking away. Pulling her wand from where it was haphazardly stashed in her bag, she peered through two uncooperative hanks of hair that dangled in her face, trying to make out what the enchanted chalk was writing on the slate at the front of the class.

She managed to follow along mostly, but was finding the beginning incantation tricky. "No no Miss Sova, let your wrist roll gently. It's not a cattle prod to jab with. Swish and flick, remember." Flitwick's instructions were kindly spoken, yet firm in purpose. She tried again, causing the small man to chuckle gently, while still backing away ever so slightly to avoid any fallout. "Shaking it harder will bear no effect. I often find, when trying new spells to slow down my wand movements, just til I grasp the knack for them."

Anezka's eye roll distracted the professor from noticing that her ears were turning bright pink. With a look of resolution and with overly articulated gestures, she dashed her wand and uttered the conjuration, enunciating each word as clearly as her accent would allow, sending a spritz of water dribbling from the end of her wand.

Before Flitwick could extol her valiant and mostly successful attempt, he notice the dampness that was seeping through the bottom of his robes.

* * *

"My wand peed on a professors leg!" Anezka sat, staring blankly into her luncheon of stew, once again repeating the embarrassing mantra in a monotone vocalization

"You know, of all the absurd and awkward things you've done in your forty-eight hours here, I'd hardly consider that to be the one to flagellate yourself over." Onyx said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Anezka's nose wrinkled. "Has your wand ever urinated on a member of staff?" She challenged with toss of her head. "No? Didn't think so."

"Maybe because we actually passed our first year charms classes and know how to swish and flick." Jade sneered back at her.

Onyx glared at her sister for a moment. "It's understandable. You've been to so many different schools. I am sure they teach differently." She paused, and for a moment an expression crossed her face making her look like the quintessence of timidity. "If you want, I'm actually pretty handy with charms. I could go over some of the bits you're not as sure about with you. If you like." The offer was made with great hesitation and a large effort to seem casual. It was also made in rebellion against the disapproving glare of her sister.

"What do I have to do in return?" Grey eyes narrowed and peered suspiciously across the table.

"Umm . . . nothing?" Onyx still seemed unsure of herself.

"Oh. That's alright then. Just didn't want to wake up some morning with a Slave-Spell on me and end up having to lick your shoes clean, just for you looking over my homework for me."

An aghast expression crossed Onyx's face. "What kind of jerk would even think about doing that?"

"My cousin Vali."

"Oh . . . I'm sure he's not a jerk. . . ."

"Nah, he's a jerk. Right piss-ant."

"Alright then. So, you do want me to help you then?"

Anezka shrugged artlessly. "Might as well. Gotta pass, don't I? And charms isn't the easiest to get someone to pass it for me, now are they?"

* * *

The rumblings through the class started as soon as Professor Burbage started chronicling the details of the first term's assignments. For all that Muggle Studies was supposed to be a 'soft' option, the assignment on the board grew more and more daunting as the teacher's handwriting filled more of the slate. At the top, the title read "_Muggle Book Reports_", with the sub-heading of "_Studying Muggle Literature and discussing how it can be applied to the Magical Worlds._"

_1. Pick a piece of Classical Muggle Literature to read and study  
2. Do a brief study of the time period it was written in so as to fully understand the context.  
3. Complete an outline of the work's basic plot (antagonists, protagonists, story arc, thematic elements, etc)  
4. Complete a five page essay on how the lessons learned in the work can be applied in the magical world.  
_

The professor spun around and rubbed the chalk dust off her fingers. "Any questions so far, class?"

Only one slender hand with chewed up nails shot up in the back of the class. "Yeah, does it have to be fiction?"

Professor Burbage wasn't sure which unnerved her more, the fact that a student seemed keen enough on the project that usually inspired groans, or the fact that the particular student was a Slytherin. Attendance from students in that House were rather a commodity in her subject. It was almost as rare as having a muggle-born take the course, but as there was also a third-year girl who was taking the class despite growing up in a completely magic free home, so to her way of thinking, it must just be the year of firsts. "Well, no. If you wish to use a non-fiction work, as long as it is a classical piece, you may. I must say though, that it will complicate the assignment quite a bit." The girl, obscured by the extraordinarily tall Ravenclaw boy in front of her, didn't have a response, so Professor Burbage continued. "Now, for a literary work to be considered a 'classic', it must be a well known work, that is well written and of good quality that has stood the test of time - and before anyone asks, that means no, the latest installment of Goosebumps does not qualify. The book must have a certain universal appeal and it must most certainly have some kind of theme or universal truth. I have a list of suggestions with a brief synopsis of each option if you are stuck for ideas. Please take the time to look over them quietly, and submit your book of choice to me by the end of class, with your name and house listed to at the top of the parchment - I do not wish to play guessing games of who is reading what. Keep in mind, no one may read the same book as someone else. The point is to learn about different books during the presentations at the end of the semester."

The rest of the class went by in a flurry of papers and two Gryffindor girls bickering over who chose to read Pride and Prejudice first. As the bell rung, her desk was quickly assaulted by a mass of papers, all bearing names and titles, all piling up so quickly that she couldn't see who was handing her what. Long after the class had departed, she started flicking through them, most of the titles familiar and well known, all selections from her list, with a few newer and more creative choices. It wasn't until she reached the last paper that her stomach knotted.

At the top in a childish scrawl full of large loops and messy lines read _Anezka Sova, Slytherin_, and below it a title of a book that was probably the work most befitting a Slytherin but that was also the last book she'd ever want a Slytherin to get their hands on. It was bound to be an interesting term. . .

* * *

Anezka sat in the Ancient Runes - or Ruins as Nezza had redubbed it. Professor Babbling was apparently one of those teachers that felt a warm up pop-quiz was the perfect way to start a year. As if the fact that she now had a series of runic inscriptions to translate sitting in front of her and her having not even dusted off her Syllabary in 2 years wasn't bad enough, they were all in the Anglo-Saxon Futhark, while she was always trained in Hungarian runes. After fumbling through the first three, trying to spot the similarities in the symbols she knew and the ones in front of her, she decided to just write a load of rubbish down and sparing herself the headache, and hoping there would be extra credit before the end of term. Pop quizzes couldn't count for much towards the grade, and no one had to know but her and the prof that she didn't have a clue.

"Alright students, as we have eight lines and eight students, I thought we could each take a line and read out our translations and see what we all came up with."

_FUCK!_ Anezka screamed to herself, suddenly trying to come up with better solutions, as others read their answers off.

"Hrothgar, rune-master, lies buried here with his secrets," read one student when prompted.

Another continued on with the next line. "For with him buried lie his blood soaked stones" Jade spoke her translation assuredly

Babbling interrupted here. "Generally that translates to blood-written stones, but it's a subtle diffrence. Next line please."

"For the charms he cast held power over earth and sky"

"Life and death held no sway"

"Risen up were men who once breathed dirt."

"You missed several words, it's supposed to be 'Risen up were men who once breathed but now lived in dirt'." The professor corrected again.

"And where he went they followed as a curse"

It was Onyx's turn to read. "But what he sought of them were the question that now lingers on his tomb,"

There was a pause. "Would you care to read your translation of the last line of the inscription, Miss Sova?"

Anezka looked up in terror, and then with a sigh began to read from her parchment. "The Question of," that had been all she had managed to translate then she had made the remainder up. " . . .would you like a side of chips with that?"


	13. Detention

Contrary to most of the student's - primarily the Gryffindor's - opinions, Snape did not _like_ assigning detentions. Inevitably, and despite his many failed attempts to come up with a solution to this problem, detentions meant Snape was stuck in a classroom with the most annoying of students for one hour longer then he was normally required to be.

Unfortunately, it was the most effective means to inflicting agony into the students. While masochism wasn't his predominant goal, he was determined to give in kind what headaches they bestowed upon him every class period. Most times he was able to assign them to the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid, or leave them to Filch's much more cruel machinations. However, on the odd occasion when he could find no other staff to supervise, their whined excuses of 'But, there's Quidditch' or 'But Sir, my homework' served as a balm to the annoyance of dealing with them after hours.

However, no detention he ever assigned made him question his own sanity so much as the one the first Tuesday night of term. When he saw the Sova girl leave dinner on the tail of the Argent girls, he assumed that they were making their way to the common room and that she was going to turn up in the potions classroom at a prompt time for her assigned punishment. He was loathe to discover that she was nowhere near the classroom when he arrived. Dreading the tedious search that he was certain awaited him, he quickly made for a hidden passage between the laboratory, through a corridor of long-unused dungeons that lead straight to the common room entrance. Knowing the hall to be largely abandoned, he did not bother to modulate his stride, and the echoing of his hurried footsteps nearly drowned out the faint sound of running water. He paused just in time to hear a snarled oath of "Jesu-fucking-Cristos!"

"You almost had it." A much more pleasant and calm voice followed. "You've got the incantation down pat, and you're swish-and-flick is getting much better. You have just got to learn how to control your follow through, or else you're going to keep spraying it everywhere like that. When you are done with the flick, hold your wand steady, but where you hold in controls the direction of the water."

By now Snape had started to peer through the grate on the door to one of the larger dungeon cells, to see Anezka lowering her wand that had been pointed at a large trough. "How the fuck do you know all this? You just started learning this charm today too, y'know."

"Well, actually," Snape could recognize which Argent twin it was, but he definitely recognized the haughty tone. "I've been working on this charm since the summer." Anezka sneered a bit, her expression clearly unimpressed. "What? I love charms. It gives me something to do when I'm bored." She sounded less self-important and just a touch more self-conscious.

"You're weird."

"She's not the one that carries around a collapsible cauldron and a Runsan Burner in her satchel." Snape looked to the shadows on the dungeon's far wall to see the second twin sitting cross-legged, elbow deep in Athrimancy homework. Her look screamed censure and disinterest.

"It's called a BUNSEN burner. If you're going to be critical, at least say it right."

"I have no need to remember what a stupid, muggle torch is called."

"Jade, stop it. Anezka, focus! Do it again, but this time, remember to emphasize the end of the word - Agua_menti_. And don't forget to round out your wand movement."

Just as the slight, dark haired girl was raising her wand for one more attempt, Snape pushed the door open, making it slam against the stone wall behind it with a loud clang. "Explain yourselves."

"Well, I'm a seventeen year old witch, five feet four or so, about seven and a half stone, my hair colour would best be described as well . .. sooty, maybe?" Anezka finished her 'explanation' by tugging at a hank of hair, and trying to cross her eyes to see it better.

The girl's substitute tutor smacked her quickly in a bid to silence her, and shot a cautious if not entirely penitent look to her professor. "It was my idea sir. Anezka needs some catching up in Charms class, and since I am one of the best Charms students in our year, I thought I should help her."

"How very _noble _of you." Snape spat out the adjective as an insult rather than the good thing it was usually thought to be.

"Not really, sir. I'd much rather waste some of my free time helping her then see our House lose points because she can't keep up with the assignments."

"Be that as it may, I still have not heard a reason why you decided your impromptu charms lesson was more important than the detention assigned to her."

Onyx looked aghast, Jade looked smug and Anezka just looked confused. "She didn't tell me she had detention, sir"

"Stupid slag." Jade snickered.

"Oh yeah . . .. " Anezka seemed impervious to her companions' insults and accusations, and instead seemed almost surprised that she was supposed to be elsewhere.

"I suggest you head back to the common rooms immediately. Not you, Miss Sova." He halted the girl as she tried to sneak out between the other two. "You will follow me to my classroom for your detention."

She was surprisingly subdued as they made the short trip between the two rooms, and Snape found himself wondering why - what thought were darting through her head. Already he was accustomed to her voicing every thought that made an abrupt appearance in the swirling vortex of her head.

Upon reaching their destination, Snape immediately made a bee line for the large work table at the front, where he had already set out the ingredients and tools he needed to start the re-brewing process. It wasn't until he had already started grinding the sneezewort seeds into a fine powder that he noticed a presence lurking behind him, where Anezka was standing on tip toes trying to see what he was doing. "So, whatcha want me to do. I'm dead handy with a pestle if you want me to take over on that from you. Or I can start premixing stuff for ya, if you like. It's your detention. Or well, it's my detention but since you're so neurotic and control freakish . . .."

"If you are under the misapprehension that you will be allowed to come near my work, you will find yourself sorely disappointed." He snarled as he continued to turn the dried plant to a fine powder.

"So you mean to say that you've assigned me all this detention for running into you, like, and making you potions go off, but I'm not actually going to be made to help re-brew them. That you just gave me a month's worth of detention out of some sicko sense of revenge?"

"I applaud your keen observations skills. Perchance, you would like to apply them to the desk at the back of the room where you will note the scroll and quill. I suggest you start using them now so that I might possibly be satisfied with the with the number of lines you have written."

Her initial silence almost compelled him to look at her, but he dared not spare her the attention. "Lines? All you want me to do is lines? Well, aren't you a soft bastard! Usually I get stuck doing all the grunt work when I get detentions." She said with a chuckle as she started shuffling towards the table. Another moment was passed in silence save for the scrapping of chair against stone floor and the rustling of papers. Keeping the smallest amount of attention on the girl, he waited to see if she would set to her task quietly or not. "So . . . what exactly am I supposed to be writing?" He chastised himself for even believing that there was a chance she would cooperate.

"I believe that 'I shall not run in the corridors' would be considered appropriate." For all that he handed out detentions left and right, he seldom supervised, and even more seldom assigned lines.

Once again, he found her silence more aggravating then her customary noise, as she picked up the quill and started to write. Trying to disregard the paranoia ticking in the back of his mind, he refocused his attention to his brewing.

Before he knew it the hour had passed, and still Anezka sat quietly in her seat, the worst misbehavior to appoint to her being her unladylike straddling of her chair. As he stood over her, she looked up at him suddenly, as if surprised to see him there, rather than at his workstation. "Can I help you?" She asked, leaning over the parchments she wrote on like a dragon protecting its egg.

"Your hour is over. Please hand me your lines."

Something flashed in her grey eyes - Snape couldn't tell if it was fear, anger or surprise, but it quickly disappeared and was replaced with her usual expression of indolence and irreverence. "Oh, you're one of those what wants the lines turned in? My bad, I wrote really sloppy like, why don't I just take them with me and redo them and hand them in tomorrow. It'll be a burden, but I don't want you saying I didn't do them right."

"After thirteen years of teaching I am more than equipped with the ability to read children's bad handwriting." He kept his hand extended for the parchment.

"Well . .. " She started handing him the papers reluctantly, then jerked her hand back quickly and pretended to sneeze and cough all over the documents. "Oh, I'm soooo sorry sir. You don't want my germs - there was some nasty flu-like cold thingy going around at home. My cousin Grigor, he's the second eldest of the cousins, he sneezed so hard a little chunk of his brain flew out of his nose! I'm not even remotely having you on! One day he was like sneezing for five minutes straight then pop, out comes this little grey shriveled thing. Cousin Erdo tried telling him that it was just a huge boogey, but I'm sorry, you can't grow boogies that big, no matter how huge your nose is, and believe me, Grigor's nose is HUGE! Almost as big as yours . . ."

His anger built all through her fatuous excuses, and finally, he simply snatched the papers from her, not giving her the choice, or the option to argue more. "Get out." He rumbled lowly at her.

With a martyred sigh she slowly stood, and drug her feet, hesitating at the door. "But . . . I . . ." She looked genuinely upset for all of a second, then shrugged. "Don't say I didn't tell you. Don't come crying to me when a chunk of your brain plops out of your head."

As soon as the tapping of her feet dissipated down the corridor, he retreated to his office and sat down, placing her work in front of him. At the top of her work, her name and the assignment, and the first quarter of the page was filled with passable lines - that is, if _'I will not impersonate a three-legged hippogriff'_ and '_I am not a mountain goat, nor is Professor Snape, ergo, I shall not challenge him to a head-butting competition.'_ counted as lines. In his opinion, it didn't much signify, as the main intention was to keep her occupied and out of his way, which it seemed to have accomplished.

It wasn't until he started reading further, past such gems of irreverence as _'I will not test the relative softness of Snapykins chest to a brick wall with my head.'_ and _'Iway allshay otnay unray inway ethay orridorscay.'_ that he noticed her sentences trailing off, and replacing them were what first appeared to be scattered ramblings. Irritation surged over him, and he started to make plans to make her redo them when he noticed a familiar equation and felt a shock go down his spine. Now with rapt attention he scanned over her words.

_"He's obviously using a 3:1 blend on the wormwood to boiling water, which seems high but he must be using it as an antipyretic. Most likely have to keep a controlled dosage though to keep it from being toxic. Wonder if he's ever tried cutting it with firewhiskey? Is he mixing Snotmustard oil with flobberworm? So THATS how he keeps the potion seperated - you shake it to mix in the mustard-flobberworm concoction with the rest of the potion. Holy cow on fire - he's got three cauldrons simmering at once and he's still able to concentrate on his portion controll . . . "_

The entire scroll was filled with such musing, questions and detailed notes on every move he had made in the last hour. His recipe was laid bare on the paper in so many words, described by her observations. He took a moment to ponder what enervated him more; her aptitude with recognizing unmarked ingredients by sight and smell as well as understanding their subtle uses, the fact that she was watching him the entire detention, or the fact that boldly written in smeared ink at the bottom of the page lay the phrase _"Hot damn! He's entirely less offensive as a human being when he's brewing. . . _

He felt the foundations of his assumptions about the girl quake. Never in the past decade, at least, had he so wrongly read a person. She was certainly bratty and rude but she was clearly cleverer then he had given her credit for. It was now obvious to him that she hid a sharp and cunning mind behind a wall of offensive noise and attitude. The ramifications of this discovery burdened him and he mentally added her to his list of students to watch.


	14. Geronimo!

When she was sure she was well out of earshot, Anezka leant against a wall, her face pale and her breath staccato. "FUCK!" She hissed hoarsely, enraging a portrait of an old Morris Dancer, that quickly dropped his white handkerchiefs and shook his finger at her, admonishing her not to be so profane. "FUCK YOU!" She snarled at him then continued down the hallway.

"_Requiro _rooftop_"_ She commanded her wand and quickly darted down the direction it pointed. She needed a smoke - immediately. It had been over 24 hours now since she had one and her eye was starting to twitch. The potent combination of caffeine, nicotine and Grecian Lotus extract would calm her nerves and allow her to think better.

As she journeyed up several flights of stairs, the castle started to make sense to her - which corridor led to what atrium, which flight of stairs led to what floor. It reminded her significantly of home, and the melancholy nostalgia made her craving even worse so she hurried her stride. It was nearing the nine o'clock curfew, so the few other students that were in the halls were heading quickly towards their common rooms, but none looked askance at her, and for once she didn't feel the compulsive need to change that.

The _Requiro_ spell was both useful and irritating in its abilities. It would direct the caster to go the most logical and direct ways to the destination requested of it, but had no capacity to adjust its path for immovable objects such as walls. Due to this, the wand-bearer would often have to compensate, which in Anezka's case usually meant that she had to wander around aimlessly until the spell reset itself. Luckily for Nezza's frayed nerves, the spell worked without incident, the wand point in the direction she should go, as if it was a compass pointing to the assumed north of the roof. It lead her up what felt like every set of stairs in the castle, and down seldom used corridors, until she found herself on one of the top most floors short of the towers, in a small attic passageway, looking at a dormered window. "Rooftop _vennit_" She disabled the spell and pushed open the old glass, it's hinges squeaking loudly in protest.

Crawling out onto the slate shingles, she settled herself quickly onto the gently sloped roof, noting that she would be glad for the shelter that the tower that formed up from the castle nearby would provide come the colder months. Quickly she retrieved her bag of smokes and noted that she was running low and made a mental note to roll up some more soon.

A quick _Flagrate_ charm lit the end of the hand rolled cigarette and soon after the first puff, Anezka felt herself calming down, making her curious as to why she was so upset in the first place.

Not only had she lost an hour's worth of work that she had fully intended to use, but now Snape had a view of her that she didn't wish him to have. Those notes would have been invaluable to her and she knew the new ideas that she had jotted down on the margins would be lost to her murky memory in short order. Although, she had to admit that she wasn't too concerned with him reading what she had written. It wasn't as it she had written down a confession of undying love or any such stupid thing. The problem laid in the fact that he was already close enough, being her Head of House and the fact that he disliked her was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that he wasn't going to try and be a mentor any time soon, and for that fact she was eternally grateful to the man's ill-temper. Conversely, though, it also meant he was going to try to find fault with her, which she wasn't delusional enough to think that there was anything less than a mountain of faults to find. The man was quite obviously, by nature, suspicious and upon reading a foot long scroll of her musing on his every action was going to set him on his guard. He now knew that she was observing and recording and that would cause his distrust of her to grow from nuisance to worse. She didn't doubt that he was now going to watch her - Suspicious people watched those watching them.

"What a cluster-fuck!" She groaned aloud, despite no one being near to hear her. Rolling the smoke gently between her fingers to ash the end, she took another hit, as pleased now as she was the first time with the both soothing and stimulating effects the Grecian Lotus had. Taking the moment of induced mental clarity she tried to form a plan.

Suddenly starting to tow the line would most certainly put the professor even more on edge but at the same time, her usual behavior - or lack thereof - would give him more cause to give her detentions and 'keep an eye on her'. It presented the classic conundrum of damned if she did and damned if she didn't. It left her only one option, and it involved her, Snape and a possible committal to Saint Mungo's ward for sanity-challenged wizards. It wouldn't be easy, but if anyone could pull it off, she knew it was her. From seventeen years of experience with various relatives she knew that sooner or later all authority figures would give up if she made it trying enough for them.

Suddenly a chilly fall breeze swept through the night air and made Anezka's form shiver. With a steadied hand, she quickly stubbed the cigarette out on the gray roof tiles and shimmied back in through the window, tumbling to the floor with an dull thud.

A malignant sounding "meow" echoed up to the crawlspace she was occupying, from a few floors below, followed by an old man's wheezing. "You hear that, my sweet? Wonder what that Peeves could be getting into up there?" The voice and the patter of small, furry feet against stone were sounding closer every second.

"Well, shit on toast . . . " Anezka whispered into the hand that she had face-planted into in frustration. Looking around frantically she sought out an escape route. There was only one flight of stairs leading to this garret, and it ended in a ledge that dropped to what looked like four floors below. She definitely did not want to get caught by the nasty old relic that patrolled the halls with his hell spawn cat. Just because she had Snape between a rock and a hard place when it came to her discipline, she had no such leverage on Filch. He wanted to have her thrown out for having gone to the wrong place upon arrival so she couldn't imagine what punishment he would subject a student who got caught getting high on the roof after curfew to "Only one thing for it." She whispered looking dubiously over the ledge. With a prayer that she would get the wand movements right, she cast a silencing spell and a cushioning charm on herself, launching herself over the edge, her voiceless mouth forming the word "Geronimo!"


	15. Curfew

Half past nine. It had only been a very brief forty five minutes since the detention had ended, but yet Snape had felt every minute trudge by as if it had been an epoch. The words on the scroll placed carefully on the desk in front of him made his head ache, but not just from the slovenly script that adorned it in a jumble of lines, all slanting different directions. He had spent the entire time since the girl's departure reading and rereading every word, trying to interpret their intentions.

"_I wonder if that trick with the Flobberworm mucus would work for my hangover cure. That shit spoils so fast that I can't keep it in stock. I'd have to isolate which ingredient is the catalyst that makes it turn when mixed._" That question was written upside down, in a margin next to a detailed chronicling of his potion methodology, and told him many things about his new student.

Firstly, that she had creativity and wasn't afraid to try application of new techniques to potions that she had evidently pioneered herself, as he had never found an effective mass-produced potion to cure the after effects of too much drink. At least, he assumed that hers was an effective potion, because the second conclusion he had reached from this line.

Added in with the remembrance of a bottle that had flown out her bag the previous night, it was his deduction that she was an alcoholic. Only a drunkard would feel the need to experiment with hangover solutions, ergo, it would have to be one that worked. While such a deduction of one so young would instill sadness and sympathy in the likes of Dumbledore or McGonagall, he viewed it as nothing other than the blatant stupidity of an arrogant stripling who thought she was invincible. While he would have gladly not given the fact a second thought, the good voice in the back of his head gently whispered to him that he wouldn't be angry if he didn't care about his student, and that he should try to have some compassion.

He scoffed at the thought, and shut out the soft voice and the mental image they evoked and continued with his inspection of the script. The word 'stock' bothered him greatly. If she meant a supply for personal use only, surely she would have used such a word as 'stash' or 'on hand' while 'stock' insinuated distribution. While he did not feel concern for that particular potion - he'd never witness a student drink more than a few harmless Butterbeers – the fact that this girl was able to glibly dispense such a potion, made him wonder what else she would be willing to brew for other students.

Strangely enough, the prospect of the actual brewing didn't unsettle him. He was loathe to admit it but she had shown a certain aptitude, not only in her first class, but also in her adept interpretation of his work from that evening, proving that she should indeed be able to brew in solitude without blowing the castle up or poisoning the person partaking of her work. Of course now he was determined to watch her to spot any failings so his opinion, of the student body as a whole being useless idiots, would remain intact. It still remained, however, that her obvious disregard for what would be considered appropriate potions for the student body to have, unsettled him.

He looked at the antique wall clock again, and realized five more minutes had past. It would take him weeks to thoroughly translate the document into logical assumptions about the girl. An infernal curiosity took hold of him, and he pulled out his House rosters, flipping immediately to the sixth page. Running his finger down the column he scanned the sixth year girl's names in the same dormitory. _J. Argent - in common room, O. Argent - in common room, G. Fox - in bed, - absent past curfew._

He stood immediately, before even he was even finished reading the words. With the fury of his full temper, he stormed to the common room, starling the Argent twins who sat by the fire. "Where is your troublesome cohort? I know that she is not in the dormitory, so do not even attempt to lie to provide her an alibi."

"We haven't seen her since she went to detention sir." The blonde one snapped with the classic Slytherin tone of part deference and part arrogance.

"Get to your dormitories. Now." The girls, having spent years with him as their supervisor, knew that it was more prudent to not challenge him when he used that tone of voice and gathered up their books and magazines and descended down to their room.

He paced the room, waiting for the wayward student to arrive, only after sending a note to Filch to be on the lookout for her. He mainly stood by the fire, the damp chill of the underground room piercing through his robes. Standing, one hand pressed to the mantle, he looked across to where the chess set was still mid game, a new move having been performed and the opponent waiting for his response. Without moving, he called his move to the set and the green serpent slid across the board.

No sooner had it taken its square then the portal opened and his prey came tripping into the room. It wasn't until she hit the bottom of the stairs that he noticed it was a limp and not a stumble. Clearly, she didn't notice him on the side of the chamber, as she kept hobbling towards the couch, saying nothing and wincing ever so slightly. "Good evening Miss Sova." He growled lowly.

She jumped in surprise, clutching at her chest then toppling over, her ankle giving out from under her. "Mother-FUCKING . .. . ow!" He profanities were cut short as she hit the floor.

Sweeping across the room he stood imposingly over her. "Would you care to explain _why_ you are just now sneaking into your dormitory, even though your curfew was at nine precisely. I do believe I explained to you that I would not tolerate even sixty seconds of tardiness and here you are nearly an hour late."

Her pert nose wrinkled, and iron eyes narrowed. "Uhh, hello? Got lost, didn't I?"

"Lost? Between the potions class room and here?" His tone was soaked in dubiety. There was exactly 2 turns, a flight of stairs and a corridor between the two.

Gray eyes rolled in her angular face. "Big fucking castle, innit?"

"I find that entirely an implausible contention. The castle did not seem so large yesterday when you managed to find your way back to the common rooms without incident."

"It was darker today." It was a statement, but her tone clearly expressed the fact that she was merely presenting this as a possible and not an actual solution.

"As you are already in detention for the foreseeable future, my anger shall have to be assuaged with taking one hundred points from you."

Anezka looked truly unperturbed. "That's your punishment, not mine."

"Go to your dormitory before I make it an uneven thirty more." Snape growled.

Again, with a apathetical shrug and tilt to her head, she just looked at him for a moment, as if to say 'Are you stupid?'

As his features remained unmoved and he continued to tower over her sprawled form on the floor, she shook her head, muttered a few choice words in Romanian that he couldn't hear or understand, then made a move to stand.

Shifting, she tried to press herself up off the flagstone, but the moment she tried to put weight on her now swelling ankle she found herself back on the ground. Floundering a few more moments she finally gave up with a defeatists sigh."I'll just crawl there, shall I?" She started to use her arms to pull her across the stone.

"And have you taken all night about it? I think not, Miss Sova. What in Merlin's name did you do to your ankle?"

A scowl crossed he features. "Tripped down some stairs." Her tone, while trying to be scornful was defensive. While she wasn't embarrassed about what she implied, the emotion was still genuine.

He looked down at her, she was now sitting upright, rubbing gingerly at the obviously tumid Talocrural joint. With a martyred sigh, he knelt to the ground in front of her, wishing that he did not have to do so for an accurate diagnosis. Without solicitude, he grabbed her foot and despite her yowls of pain, he prodded around the ankle and tested the range of motion. "It is not broken; therefore will not necessitate a trip to the infirmary." He could not and would not allow the girl to milk the injury for more than it was worth.

He swiftly removed his ebony wand from the pocket inside of his robe, and without a word, tapped the extremity, send healing blue sparks of magic into the injury. Often enough in his life, He had been injured with no recourse but to heal to know that the charm would mend the torn ligament in a matter of moments, rather than the weeks it would take to heal on its own. God forbid this girl would sprain it again in the course of healing, as undoubtedly she would with her clumsiness. Such an injury would be an excuse for everything from tardiness to brawls.

He continued to hold her ankle still as the magic worked. "The injury is repaired, however, the joint will still be swollen and painful well into tomorrow. I suggest you acquire some Meadowsweet Ointment from the medical chest in the bathroom." Knowing the healing was complete, he released his grip on her leg suddenly, her foot thudding against the floor being echoed by her wail of pain.

He didn't wait to see if she would do as she was told, but simply swaggered out, warding the door behind him to set an alarm if anyone left. He also didn't see her hobble towards the chess set.


	16. WART

Professor Snape was no fool. He had recommended Meadowsweet knowing that he'd hear no end of her pain if she did not receive some kind of treatment for it. There was also security in knowing that his prescription was fairly innocuous and that it was the strongest medicine she would fine in the Medi-wiz kit supplied in the dormitory bathrooms. Only he and Madam Pomfrey had access to anything stronger should the urge to over-medicate come to her. They days of random trunk searches for any one in his house had not yet been instituted by Snape, although Anezka was his inspiration when those days came.

Contrary to his instructions, Anezka bypassed the bathroom entirely that night, and instead collapsed in a heap in front of her trunk and started to rummage, undisturbed by her roommates who were readying themselves for bed. After a few moments of shuffling leather-bound books and dirty socks out of the way, she pulled up the false panel in the bottom of her trunk. There were hooks along the inside lid, all perfectly shaped to hold small potion bottles. Only four of them were filled, the first holding a wide-mouthed vial filled with the dried, leafy combination she filled her cigarettes with. Right next to it was what she sought. A dark red bottle, filled with a viscous liquid, she grinned as she pulled out the stopper and sniffed. Across the front was a small parchment label, rubber-cemented to the glass. On it, Nezza's own looped and jagged scrawl spelled out the words "Active ingredient, Wailing Poppy extract."

Meadowsweet, in it's various forms, had been one of my grandmother's stand-by cure-alls for her rambunctious daughter's nicks and scrapes in her formative years and it, along with many other more common remedies, had long lost its potency in her system since. Anezka had taken it into her own hands to replace it with something stronger. The brew in the red bottle was it. She gently took a quick, carefully measured drag of the bottle. It had the consistency of half dried glue, and she made certain to cork it again quickly to keep it from actually drying out.

When I was a small child my mother did not let me take potions for most common ailments. Despite the house being filled to the rafters with every potion and ingredient possible, not one passed my lips. A bloody knee was treated with a Scourgify, an Elastoplast and an ice pack to numb the pain. For a cough, Pepper-up potion went by the wayside and was replaced by chicken soup and tea with honey. This puzzled me as a child and irked me as a teen, as her own addictions were clear. For herself, she took a potion for everything and this apparent hypocrisy drove my adolescent sense of fair-play wild. It wasn't until many years later that I began to understand the sacrifice of parents - that she wanted something different for me then she had for herself. It had been the much thwarted goal of my grandmother's life to turn Anezka into something exactly resembling herself. It had been Anezka's goal to turn me into something the exact opposite of her. But that story will tell itself in time.

The following two weeks of Anezka's new school life passed much in the same haphazard way the first two days had. Classes filed with outstanding academic successes were followed quickly by classes marked by immense failure. All were treated with the same odd mixture of disinterest and malaise, occasionally punctuated by the odd burst of quirky enthusiasm. But nothing, not one single incident that had occurred in that first fortnight, explain to her why she was standing in the middle of a field, during the early dawn hours of her second Saturday at Hogwarts.

She honestly couldn't remember how she had agreed to this. All she wanted was one valid reason as to why she was out there. She'd have even settled for an invalid reason, she wasn't too picky. There had to be a reason she was tolerating the damp drizzle that was dripping down the back of her neck. Just as she was about to leave the lineup of students that stood waiting in the tall grass at the furthest reaches of the grounds, she saw the shadowy figure of a professor heading in their direction. He carried with him a large crate that rattled as he walked. Stopping in front of the crowd, Lupin set the crate down and turned to survey the number of students.

He marched in front of them and paced as he started to speak, like a General addressing his troops. "Welcome to the first meeting of Hogwarts' 'Wards and Reconnaissance Training'. This is a new club that Professor Dumble . . ."

"WART? The name of this club is the WART club?" A shrill and whiny voice that could belong to no one other then Gretchen, Anezka's third roommate, echoed in the still morning air, from further down the lineup. "No one told me that's what this was going to be called!" She sounded mortally offended and just a little put out.

Lupin chuckled a little and shook his head. "Yes, sadly it is a rather unfortunate acronym. However, as the premise of this club is based off the Auror's training exam called 'Wards and Reconnaissance Standards' it was the only logical name. As you are all young adults, I expect that you will be able to ignore the less the pleasant connotations of the name and focus instead on what this course has to offer you." The students gathered were only from sixth and seventh years, but despite their seniority, their expressions were very telling of the fact that they wouldn't have the maturity Lupin expected of them.

Anezka took a moment to look at Lupin, an equal measure of disgust and regard filling in the void in her mind that was to hold her opinion of him. He had tricked her. Tricked her into attending these WART club meetings. It had been her second day in his class, that first week and having so enjoyed her first matching of wits against the Defense professor, she had felt compelled to challenge him again. Only this time she had lost. It made her feel a little better that Professor Lupin had been the only adult in her years of voicing strong and usually contrary opinions that ever actually argued back. But it still irked her that he had bested her. The verbal trap he had laid out for her had tricked her into voluntarily signing up for an extra-credit extracurricular. No one had ever managed to trick her into anything since her Mother had conned her into a ballet class when she was seven. Hopefully, for Lupin's sake, this wouldn't turn out as badly.

"While the club is based off Auror training, it is in no way limited to only students who plan to pursue a career in that field. The premise is to supplement your higher levels of 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' curriculum and to get a more hands-on study that we wouldn't be able to achieve in the normal class periods. Any questions so far?"

"Yes, professor. Can we change the name of the club, please. I can hardly be expected to go around telling people that I am in the WART Club now can I?"

"I am sorry Gretchen, that is not possible. Anything else?" Silence save for the wind through the grass met Lupin's question. "Well then, let us continue. These practices will be every other Saturday, except for any Saturdays that have Quidditch matches planned. We will go over everything from basic dueling skills, camouflaging charms, to emergency first aid spells. Then, once every semester, the grounds of Hogwarts will become your battlefield. " Lupin smiled indulgently as the boys in the group smirked and cheered. "Of these four 'battles' only 2 will be scheduled in advance. 2 will be unannounced. A lesson in preparedness and ability to adapt to situations. You will be divided up into teams. You will not at first know who is on your team - another, slightly less magical lesson to be learned, of who to trust and who to not." A Gryffindor seventh year pretended to cough, that came out sounding like 'slytherins', causing a stir amongst a cluster of boys donned in green and silver scarves. "There will be four teams total, each House being represented in all of them." The boy who coughed looked disgruntled. "Each battle will see a team disqualified. They will still be invited to come to practice sessions, but they will no longer be allowed in the tournament. The last team standing at the end of the year will be challenged by a wild card team. Whoever wins the last match, wins."

"Wins what?" Anezka's voice cracked as it had been the first words she had said that morning.

Lupin regarded her carefully. In truth he hadn't yet decided what the prize was to be but he felt that it needed to be good to keep her interest. Amazingly enough, he actually hoped to achieve that. "Well, this hasn't been cleared by the headmaster, but perhaps the team who wins, might be exempt from their Defense Against the Dark Arts exams at the end of the year." This caused cheers from everyone but Anezka, who shrugged and started biting her nails.

Bending over to the crate, he grabbed a handful of what appeared to be wands and started handing them to everyone. "Now, what we are doing is really just a very large complicated game. As such, use of real wands would be highly dangerous - that is if we are to be practicing all the spells that would actually be useful. These are joke wands - only I've modified them myself. Every spell that you could cast using your real wands can be cast with these, only that instead of actual results, a colour marker will appear on the person you are casting it at. Depending on what colour or where the colour is located, the opponent may or may not be considered 'out' of the match. Also, all the wands are tracked. At the end of a match a score is calculated on how many 'hits' each team got in, with each spell colour being worth a different point value."

"So, it's just like paintball then?" Anezka seemed shocked when nearly 30 sets of eyes stared at her in confusion and disdain. "What, there's not one of you that's muggle born that knows what I'm talking about? C'mon. . . "


	17. Sunday

Sunday morning, eight AM. Conditions were perfect for sleeping in. The snob-tastic duo had gone to an early breakfast, and then planned on meeting their underclassman brother for some parent-decreed bonding time. Gretchen, well, she had bored all of them the night before with her myriad of plans for the day. No one had asked her to, and no one had really listened.

No one was around to distract Anezka. It was nice and quiet and the physical activity from the day before, along with a late night made her crave sleep. And yet she was sprawled on her back, staring up at the glass ceiling above them, glaring at the shadowy figures of fish and occasional grindylows that swam by. After trying to remember how to count to a million in Romanian, she pulled her wand from under the pillow and summoned her radio. She hoped the combined sounds of static and music would give enough white noise to tune out her own thoughts. Five songs and a news update later, she was hiding under the silvery-green duvet, feet on her pillow, trying to remember how to say "_a face pe sfântul" _in English.

Giving up on both sleep and translations, she moved to rise from the bed, rolling over to her side, and instantly regretted it. "Bloody hell!" She winced, and quickly moved off her side into a sitting position. Looking down at her bare leg, she noticed her whole upper thigh was tinged with a mottled purple and black bruise. She pondered back to the day before and remembered the first WART practice. She had taken a flying leap to duck behind a bush to avoid a blob of an orange spell - she couldn't quite recall what orange spells were, but didn't think they were particularly lethal - and landed, hip first, on a downed tree branch.

She showered and dressed quickly, the only thing slowing her down was her injured leg. After spend a few minutes trying to fight a pair of jeans on over the bruises, she gave up and instead started rummaging through her laundry pile for one of her non-uniform skirts, completely unabashed to be running around the dorms during her search in nothing but the simple black cotton skivvies she wore. Pulling out a bright red broomstick skirt, she quickly shimmied into it and a tee-shirt that declared her the team captain of the "Frisco Disco Roller Derby." She had never been to Frisco, or even to a roller derby for that matter, but she liked the shirt anyway.

Despite it not yet being October, a definite chill was in the air. Being in a castle made the nine degrees Celsius feel even chillier, and certainly, being in the subterranean levels made it worse still. Shivering a bit, she quickly donned the denim jacket her mother had been so keen to buy her, in a vain hope that perhaps her child would become stylish. Anezka refuted the possibility by having long since ripped off the embroidered daisy decals, inflicting a few holes along the way. Next came her favorite pair of wooly socks and her boots, before she headed out the door to make her way to breakfast.

Out of habit, upon reaching the Great Hall, Anezka scanned the Slytherin tables for Jade and Onyx. She didn't do this out of some loyalty or misconception of friendship, but simply because she had gotten used to them and it was easier to put up with their apathy then it was most stranger's aversion.

She settled in next them quietly, at the end of the table usually occupied by first years. The hall was mostly abandoned as most students were doing what Nezza wished she was - having a lay-in. They were conversing with a small, dark haired boy, who was quite animatedly telling them how he thought the Dementors were "cool looking", even if he didn't quite like being near them and how he saw what the third years were taking care of in Care of Magical Creatures class and that he "totally needed to convince mum and dad to let him have one."

Before anyone even said hello, a thick parchment envelope was carelessly tossed at Anezka. "Here, mail came. This was left for you." The excitement Nezza felt at seeing a familiar handwriting drowned out Jade's words, although none could see it on her face.

Without ceremony, she broke the wax seal and scanned the words. "_Dragă mea, your grandmother reminded me to write. She says it's already been two weeks you are gone. . ."_She would never in a million years admit the homesickness that washed over her.

She left as silently as she had arrived, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth and walking away without a word, causing Jade to roll her eyes and Onyx to shrug, only to go back to listening how their little brother thought that Flying lessons with Madam Hooch were 'wicked fun' and how Peeves had given him the greatest prank idea ever.

The weekend before she had discovered a corner of Hogwarts no one had ever told her about, even though it was clearly a well used, if not a popular, place. Arched over the pointed oak door, carved into the stone was a phrase in Latin **Quid religio, nisi quaedam magica.**

The chapel was mostly abandoned. There was one girl, giving confession in a secluded alcove to the a painting of a Catholic priest, and a set of Pentecostals praying in tongues. Ignoring the few occupants, she went to the corner where a table of candles was set up, and quickly lit one, then quickly scuttled into the closest pew, but did not sit. She quickly clenched together her thumb and first two fingers and crossed herself - earning a strange stare from the confessing girl, who, no doubt, confused as to why Anezka was crossing herself backwards.

"_Prin rugăciunile Sfintei noastre Părinţi, Doamne Iisus Hristos Dumnezeul nostru, miluieşte-ne pe noi, Amin_!" Smiling a small, nostalgic grin she started her prayers, remembering how her father had taught them to her, the first year they were away from her family's home. It hardly held the same sensory appeal to her as the ornate cathedral the family went to every Saturday night and Sunday morning, with the gilded walls and sweet smelling incense, but she was glad for the shorter series of prayers and verses. At any rate, she highly doubted that she would be able to sit through the whole hour and a half service as well as she used to.

By this point the Catholic girl was completely distracted and was staring with her mouth agape and the Pentecostals we smiling, thinking that Nezza must be one of them as the words she spoke sounded so completely foreign. They all lost interest quickly enough, as her words kept going, often punctuated by another crossing of herself, and occasionally even with her kneeling and pressing her forehead to the ground.

Till all was done and said, she had spent a solid forty minutes in the chapel and all other people had left long before. Knowing she would fall asleep if went back to her dorm, she set her path for the lake, determined to finish reading her letter, and maybe even respond.

She settled under a large, gnarled oak tree on the farthest shore of the lake that students could easily get to and retrieved the letter from the pocket of her coat.

The letter from her father was newsy at best, chock full of random thoughts at worst. He ruined the whole happy glow she had gotten from reading the letter by his last sentence. "You mother contacted me, _Dragă_. She is quite angry you went away on your own - perhaps more angry about where you went, rather than your going. I fear she will never quite forgive me for letting you go. I tried to tell her you were staying with her parents. This did not calm her down. Please send word to her, through me if you must. Oh, and did you see my book on the digestive tract of the Antipodean Opaleye before you left? I have searched everywhere for it. You have all my love, _printesa. _Your _tată."_

"Bloody fuck, I've got to be the only teenager to run away TOO school." She rummaged in another pocket and pulled out a small leather bound journal, and ripped out a few pages to write on. Her response was short, 'tell grandma that I went to the chapel and said my prayers today,' 'your book is probably on the bookshelf in the library where it belongs, as you always put them away so you don't forget where you put them, and then always forget you put them away.' and 'tell mum if she bothers you again about me that she can _Pupă-mă_. She won't know what that means. I'll remind you to yell at me for swearing later.' were the main points that she scattered in with a few newsy bits to convince him and her grandparents that she was making the most of her time at school.

Pulling out another sheet of paper, she quickly folded into an envelope around the letter and cast a sticking charm onto the flap. After addressing it, she started a lazy pace in the direction of the owlery. She stopped when she reached the base of the stone staircase, and looked up with trepidation. Her moment of panic had nothing to do with the great height of the tower but with the occasional hoot or screech of the birds it housed.

Just as she took a deep breath and lifted her booted foot onto the first step she felt a slight tickle on her head, along with a slightly warm and damp sensation. Lifting her hand quickly, she couldn't even form a curse, she was so distraught at pulling back a finger full of owl excrement. Instead, she screamed without noise and started jumping up and down, flailing the dirtied hand madly and tugging at her hair with the free hand.

Such a frenzied dance is what sent her colliding with Professor Snape as he rounded the opposite corner of the building with purpose. This time both toppled to the ground, Anezka with a traumatized whimper, and Snape with a snarl.

"Are you completely incapable of going _anywhere_without causing mayhem and personal injury to others?" He growled as he picked himself off the ground and dusted off his robes. "If you were not already assigned another month's worth of detentions and had not already lost Slytherin more points in the last week then has been lost collectively in the last five years, rest assured I would be taking both actions."

"You ran into me!" She asserted, still frantically pawing at her dark locks that were now spotted with brownish-white sludge. "I was just standing here, minding my own business, being shat on, and then boom!" Once again, she was staring up at him from where she sat, on the ground. With a glare and a wrinkle of her nose, she grabbed the parchment envelope that was on the ground next to her without noticing that there was another one identical in shape and weight sitting on to her left, just out of her peripheral line of sight.

Quickly, she scurried off, rubbing furiously at her head, in search of water and yammering to herself how Wizards needed to find a less terrifying and gross method of mail delivery. If she noticed Snape storm up the stairs to the owlery, she did not pay it much mind. It wasn't until she hit the sinks in her dorm that she stopped physically shaking, and instead focused her energies into dumping an entire bottle of shampoo into her short hair.

Her dark locks were still dripping and plastered to her head when she finally was able to start breathing normally again. She slid down onto the tiled floor of the bathroom and reached into her pocket to retrieve a smoke, regulations be damned. In her search she also pulled out the letter that had been hurriedly crumpled into a ball and shoved into her jacket in her flight.

After lighting up, she started trying to flatten out the parchment by unfolding the dog-eared corners. "Well, that's not good." She said, recognizing profound differences in the letter. Instead of being directed to "Casmir Sova, Bufniţă Tabăra, România" it had "Silvanus Culpeper, Culpeper and Anderson Apothecaries, Diagon Alley, London" in a completely different handwriting.

For no other reason than the fact that she was nosey, Anezka went to break the seal. She breathed on the wax seal for a moment, to soften it then gently pried it open with a finger nail, without damaging the embossed image. Unfolding it, she found a page full of items and a brief missive, all written in the same handwriting that her schedule was done in.

_"Culpeper, _  
_As to the potion which we discussed in previous correspondence, I have the Aconite, powdered moonstone, and asphodel, as well as most of the more common ingredients. I will still need as follows: Adrue, Sticklewort Seeds, Rauwolfia root, Skullcap, Stinking Motherwort and Passionflower. I will require a full supply of all these in proportion to the recipe, charged to my account. As The Adrue and Rauwolfia do not keep well, I will need a recurring delivery of these every month. I need the earliest possible delivery of these as I am hitting a crucial stage in the brewing. I assume that I do not need to stress the importance of discretion in this matter.  
S. Snape"_

No matter how well versed she was, she could think of no standard potion that called for all of those ingredients - many of which were dangerous and not commonly used. The fact that she did not know, irritated her, and she could not let it stand. Instead she stood immediately and hurried to the stack of books that had formed in the last 2 weeks next to her bed.

Hours passed, roommates came and went and lunch was completely skipped, and still she read, searching and cross-referencing. After she had gone through every book with no answer other then the individual effects of ingredients she moved onto the year's worth of her _Moderne Apothekarie_ _Journal_subscriptions. She had all but lost hope when out of the corner of her eye the word "Wolfsbane" caught her attention. She had been looking for 'aconite' but had neglected to look for any of its other monikers

In anticipation she read and reread the article, discussing the new brewing techniques to make Belby's Wolfsbane Potion easier to brew. Every time she came across an ingredient recognized from Snape's letter she circled it, until finally everything he listed stood out to her, along with a handful of 'common' ingredients, which Nezza knew for fact were in the Potion's supply closet.

"Why on earth is he brewing Wolfsbane?" She asked the silent air, then shrugged, not particularly interested in the answer. Instead she unburied herself from the pile of books she had scattered around and over her and headed back to her trunk.

She didn't have the adrue, but every other ingredient happened to be in a small box in the bottom of her trunk. Most were useful in sedative and wit-sharpening potions, and both of those types of potions were number one sellers amongst Anezka's clientele.

Gathering up the bottles that held the powders and tinctures and dried leaves she left to seek out her potions Professor. She found him in a corridor, ostensibly on his way to the Great Hall for dinner. She sauntered up to him, making him stop in his tracks. Not saying a word, she held up the handful of bottles in one hand and his letter in the other.

"This will probably be enough to get you through one month's brewing, but you will need to reorder for next month. Also, if you freeze Adrue and Rauwolfia it doesn't spoil. It decreases the potency by about 15%, so you will need to adjust the recipe accordingly."

He hadn't moved, he hadn't said a word, but as she spoke the only facial expression that formed was the slow rising of an eyebrow. When he didn't take the ingredients from her hand, she pushed it closer to him, forcing him to take it or else have her fist right under his nose.

"Also, if you felt like returning the favor when you re-order, I would appreciate it. This is going to leave my stock a little short." With that she turned around and made her way back to the common room, completely disinterested in having a meal.

She collapsed on what was quickly becoming her favorite couch, and took a moment to look over the chess board. Few moves had been made over the past week and no blood had yet to be spilled. Until now. Calling her move, she sent her pawn across the board, and quickly it sank it's fangs into her opponent's castle.


	18. Brewing

Snape did not move, though his mind was racing. His angry gaze didn't move from the spot that his student had filled not seconds before. The serious implications of what just happened pressed on him, like a ton of bricks on his chest. He finally looked down to the handful of vials in his hand, hoping against hope that they _weren't_what he actually needed. But they were tagged clearly, on small home-made labels, and were all ingredients he had ordered.

The carefully compartmentalized problems he dealt daily with were starting to crash into each other and that made him nervous. While he had argued with Dumbledore for hours upon days that the students and their parents had a right to know that one of their professors could be a danger to them, Dumbledore just assumed it was old rivalries that made Snape insist on exposing Lupin. As such, he had expressly forbade Snape telling any student. Now, the least trustworthy student in the school knew and he wasn't sure how he was going to avoid the blame.

He would have to seek out a way to keep her silent on the matter - even if it meant _obliviating_her. Dumbledore would protest at first, arguing the ethics, and then would see reason and that the importance of her silence would supersede morals in the matter. There were times Snape felt that Albus was more Slytherin then he himself was.

Finally moving, he turned to return to his office, all thought of food gone from his mind. He removed the wards from his door, re-casting them the moment he was through, and made a beeline for were an unassuming cauldron was simmering in a corner. He quickly uncapped the Sticklewort seeds and emptied the contents into his hand. Crushing the dried kernels between the heels of his palms, he scattered them into the bubbling liquid. There was no point in being stupid about the matter and try returning the items. He urgently needed these items and while he was sure the potion could wait until the items were delivered from his regular apothecary, he preferred not taking the chance if he did not have to.

He pondered his next course of action as he stirred the brew. The fleeting thought that perchance she didn't realize what he had needed the ingredients for toyed with him, until the more sobering thought that there was only one potion that used all of them and even the most dunderheaded student would be able to do the research required to find out what that potion was. The realization that very few students or teachers paid any heed to what the girl said, and even fewer took anything she said seriously consoled him slightly. It was on that note that he made the choice to wait and see - the same choice he always seemed to make when it came to Miss Sova. But the possibility that she wouldn't say anything or be taken seriously if she did was worth the gamble of not playing his own hand too early by saying anything to Dumbledore.

Still, he could not get his mind off of the whole situation. At a time when he should be concerning himself with the Sirius Black situation, Dementors and keeping Potter alive, this mysterious thorn in his side kept demanding his attention. In a strange way, it was almost a strange sense of respite, dealing with a problem that did not have anything to do with The Dark Lord, or Snape's own past.

What Sova had the ingredients for was of no concern to Snape - or at very least, no new concern. He had already resigned himself to the fact that the girl brewed potions secretly, and no doubt supplied classmates with potions and remedies that wouldn't be sanctioned by the Dispensary. In just one week, a Hufflepuff with serious acne had clear skin, a shy Slytherin girl had magically plucked up the courage to ask one of the Seventh year boys out, a Ravenclaw boy who was constantly frantic about the next quiz and whether or not he got full marks on his last essay seemed entirely more relaxed and a Gryffindor who was usually covered in bruises, either from Quidditch or picking fights was neither black nor blue. Other teachers either didn't notice these changes or simply assumed they had happened through more natural causes. Snape was neither so unobservant nor so naive. Also having as many years close experience with potions and the influences they had on people as he had, you could tell just by looking at people when they were under the influence.

He poured himself two fingers of firewhiskey, school night be damned, and settled in behind his desk. He pulled out the stack of paper he had to grade, in hopes that the combination of alcohol and busy work would calm his raging thoughts. He should have thought twice before grabbing the papers of his sixth years to grade first. Anezka's was the first on the stack.

Her handwriting was appalling, but he had been yelled at years previous for docking points for illegibility. The essay was hastily written - he was fairly certain that she had scribbled the last few paragraphs as class had started and he was collecting the scrolls. And yet, after reading through what she had written, that none of the other tidier and responsibly written essays would hold a candle to what she had written. The worst part was, he could tell that she had not put any real thought or effort into the paper, and that what she said just came out of her naturally with no studying required.

Downing the last dregs of his glass, he pushed the papers aside. The student could wait for their grades. Some lingering doubt was still troubling him about this latest escapade with Sova. He pinned it down to two questions. First, why had she given him nearly fifteen galleons worth of potions supplies? The ingredients were rare, and usually had to be imported, not to mention the strict controls the Ministry had put into place on some of them. If she had taken them from an adult relative's storeroom, she would not easily be able to replace them, but she had to know that there would be no way he would do as she asked and replace them for her. No, he was certain that she would not risk giving them away if she did not have the ability to acquire more.  
The question that had haunted him more though was much simpler. Why, in Merlin's name, had he continued up to the owlery that afternoon, after having quickly realized that it was not his letter he was sending?

The sweet, feminine voice in his mind laughed gently at him.


	19. Hogsmeade

October flew by as quickly as the month before it had and the excitement of the first Hogsmeade outing seemed to hasten the weeks. When the thirtieth dawned, the castle was practically buzzing from the excitement. The morning light was bright enough that even the normally dim Slytherin dormitories shone as the sixth year girls all fought to get ready. All except for Anezka.

When she had first started filling out the scads of forms and applications last spring to gain admittance to Hogwarts, the off-grounds permission slip was amongst one of the many things her parents had to sign and she had made sure that her Father's name was scrawled across the line at the bottom. Whether or not it was actually his, or one of her indiscernible forgeries, even she could not remember, but it was a moot point now. It was signed and still sitting in the bottom of her satchel bag, no doubt rumpled to the point of destruction. She still hadn't made up her mind if she actually intended to go with her classmates.

From what she understood from her mother, Hogsmeade wasn't all everyone said it was. A joke shop, a sweets store, and a half-rate haunted house were all attractions she could do with out, and the appeal of getting out of the Castle wasn't as alluring to her as it was to most other students. Also, being forced to stay with at least one other student at all times was a serious drawback.

If it hadn't been for Gretchen's shrill and nettlesome voice, Anezka would have happily slept through the whole day. For once, the pillows and duvet were arranged perfectly and Anezka had managed to silence her noisy subconscious long enough to reach a deep sleep.

"Really, Gretch, if you are so determined to make sure you get the showers first, then wake up first. You can't really expect to sleep this late and then have us gladly give up first run of the bathroom to you." Jade's voice was the one that finally convinced Anezka to give up on trying to fall back asleep. Sitting up, she rubbed at her eyes and yawned largely. "Oh, so you are still alive over there?" Jade looked at Anezka in the mirror she was placed in front of, smearing some kind of skin cream over her face. "We were a bit worried a few moments ago when the snoring stopped."

Looking around the room she saw Gretchen in front of a full length mirror holding various outfit options in front of her while Onyx sat in her bed, drying her hair with a warming charm. She sat there, listening as the inconsequential bickering continued, Gretchen often losing the argument, but not realizing and pressing on with more obtuse statements.

Onyx was the first to ask if Anezka was coming along to the village, and the only one who even feigned pleasure when when Anezka shrugged and gave a non-committal 'I suppose'. "Well, you might want to hurry and get ready, we've already missed most of breakfast."

It took her all of a minute to get ready, simply grabbing the first pair of jeans that came to hand -miraculously clean and mended, thanks to house elves - and an argyle sweater in shades of grey and blue which was another of her mother's plea for fashion. The longest part of her dressing process was fishing her one boot out from under the bed.

Meanwhile, an intricate dance of vanity played on between the other three girls. Gretchen selected an outfit, then returned from brushing her teeth only to find Onyx dressed. It didn't take a clairvoyant to understand the thought that put the sneer on Gretchen's face when she sized up Onyx's short denim skirt and wooly tights. She immediately returned to her chest of clothes, trying to find something to make her look nicer then her roommate. Upon returning in a similar skirt and a midriff bearing striped sweater, it was Jade's turn to size up the competition and find her own outfit lacking. Layers were added and removed and all had changed at least three times, before settling on their original apparel, leaving every scrap of clothing collectively owned scattered across the room. All the while, Anezka sat and watched, biting her nails and jonesing for a smoke and just when she thought that it was all over they all moved on to hair and make up. One crimped, an other straightened then the third up the anty by styling her hair into tousled, gentle waves. First there was the soft natural make-up, then came the overly glamorized colours, Jade resorting to glittery eye shadow, Onyx broke out the earth toned lipstick and rouge, and Gretchen ending up with an unpleasant combination of everything.

They were the last students through the entrance hall, breakfast completely missed. Jade and Onyx brushed past Filch with a well-practiced air of self-importance, stating last and first name for him to mark them off on his list, without even pausing in their stride. Gretchen smiled sweetly and tried to make small talk with the caretaker, in an effort to ingratiate herself with him. All she earned was a wary glare as he checked her off the list. Filing past, Anezka just stared and Filch and he returned her suspicious gaze. The bad start they had gotten off to at the start of term had worsened when she dropped a bottle of a particularly pungent ingredient in the third floor stairwell. It took him a week to get rid of the smell and he insisted it was deliberate. It had taken some smooth taking to convince Dumbledore that she had in fact tripped so as not to land in another month of detentions.

They caught up with the four other forms of students, all lining up to get in the carriages that would take them the three miles down the road to the Village. Gretchen stood complaining that they had to wait in line behind underclassmen, while the Argents scoped out the crowds making commentary on other student's fashions senses, or lack there of, as they saw some of them.

However, they all froze when a deep, growling voice sounded from behind them. "Aren't you forgetting something, Miss Sova?" Snape lurked behind the sixth year girls.

Nezza's eyes widened for a moment as she thought, her small mouth wrinkling. "No. No, I definitely put on clean underpants . . . " She paused, ". . . yesterday."

"How fascinating." He sounded anything but. "I was in fact speaking of your permission slip. Or did you think that I would not notice that it wasn't turned in."

"Oh, that." She implied that the state of cleanliness of her unmentionable was vastly more important, by her tone. "It's in here somewhere." After two solid minutes of searching she looked up at him. "Are you really going to make me dig it out. This thing is as big as Mary-fucking-Poppins' bag."

"And why does that matter? The size of the bag in relation to that of your friend Miss Poppins is of no importance. The slip. Now, Miss Sova."

She continued to dig, muttering to herself how true culture was lost on these Hogwarts knobs, and how dare he not know who Mary Poppins was. Just as he was about to snap at her again, she raised her fist victoriously, paper in hand. She shoved the crumpled parchment into his hand and then climbed into the waiting carriage.

Upon sitting down and feeling the carriage lurch forward, Anezka almost wished she was still standing out in the freezing cold, staring down Snape. The bickering between roommates had evolved into an all out war, complete with name-calling and foot stamping.

"For the last time Gretchen! We do not want to go to the Shrieking Shack. For the love of Merlin, we aren't third-years anymore. The place lost it's appeal when we were thirteen. It takes a real troll to keep going back to the same boring place every time thinking it's going to be more exciting this time round when there are better things to be doing."

The troll comment finally shut Gretchen up, and as soon as the carriage came to a halt next to the Hogsmeade station, she pushed past all the other girls to get out, a sour expression on her face. She paused on the step for a moment, scanned the crowd then made a beeline across the crowd of students and staff members.

"Oh no, what is she up to now?" Jade groaned.

"You shouldn't have called her a troll." Onyx offered quietly.

"I didn't. I said that it takes a real troll to keep wanting to do the same thing over and over again. I didn't think she was clever enough to figure out that I meant her." Both twins shrugged, then paled as they saw Gretchen returning, with Professor McGonagall in tow, crocodile tears running down her freckled cheeks.

"I must say that I am disappointed, but not surprised. You girls should be ashamed of yourselves." The assistant Headmistress looked at them sternly.

"Oh, we are. Very ashamed. Ready to die of shame. I will happily and promptly keel over right here in the mud in penitence, if only you could tell us what we are supposed to be ashamed of." Both twins had to disguise a chuckle as clearing of throats at Anezka's glib response.

McGonagall's face grew stormier. "Miss Fox has just informed me of the devious trick you were whispering about on your trip down from the castle. You know very well that because we professors do not actively chaperon these trips, all students must stay with at least one other student at all times. Sneaking off and leaving Miss Fox alone so that she is the one who gets in trouble is petty and mean. Detention for all three of you, and ten points each. Furthermore, you will spend the rest of the day with Miss Fox or it will be an added detention and twenty more points." With that she stormed off.

As soon as she was out of sight and earshot, Gretchen's sniffles disappeared and were replaced with a smug smile. "Shall we go to the Shrieking Shack now, or perhaps get a pumpkin pastie to eat on the walk up?"

"Oh, we can't get pumpkin pasties, Gretch," Onyx smiled sweetly. "You might get fat again." Her smile remain, but the last words were poisoned and barbed. Gretchen just stormed off, knowing she had no come-back but wishing to pretend that she had still won.

"Wow. Did not expect that one from you. I always thought Jade was the bitchy one in your split personalities." Anezka nodded and did a mockingly polite golf clap. "I'm impressed. "So are we actually going to follow her?" She whispered to the other two.

"It's not worth the detention and points. Even if we did ditch her and take the punishment, she'd find us anyway. She worse then a bad penny. She's a bad penny that happens to be carrying a persistent cold germ." Jade sighed. "We'll never be able to shake her."

So they all suffered through the Shrieking Shack. Anezka, being the only one to have never seen it before, was the least impressed. An old run down house that you couldn't even get into, that used to have loud screaming noises come from it, over a decade ago hardly seemed that haunted, despite the faux-aged sign that declared it the most haunted house in England.  
After that, the twins spent the rest of the morning, well into the afternoon, spending a small fortune in just about every shop up and down High Street, including what seemed like three whole new wardrobes from Gladrags and enough candy to live off of for the rest of the year should the Hogwarts kitchens disappear.

While no one wanted to eat in anticipation of the Halloween feast later that day, all four girls were more then ready to warm up with a drink at the three broomsticks. However Anezka got quite irate when Madame Rosemerta would not let her order anything stronger then butterbeer. Instead she ordered a cup of coffee and slipped a drab of amber-coloured liquid from the green bottle she carried in her bag.

When the twins decided to mail off a present they had bought for their mother, Anezka waited outside of the post office alone, sucking back a cigarette and enjoying the few moments of respite from Gretchen's whinging and the twins' sardonic quips. The occasional hoot or squawk made her flinch, until she had to edge a little further away from the door.

Before anyone realized it, it was starting to get dark and the briskly cold day had turned into a freezing night. All the students hurried their way back to the carriages, eager for warmth and the feast that was waiting for them. They all had just enough time to get back to their dorms, drop all their shopping bags, and change before they had to make their way to the great hall.

To say the food that spread across the Great Hall tables was plentiful would have been a gross understatement. Even the pickiest of eaters found plenty to their tastes, Anezka amongst them. She filled her plate with braised lamb chops, herbed potatoes and buttered peas, eating full servings of each.

So good was the cooking, and so charming were the Hall's decorations that she didn't even mind the live bats flying overhead. Instead she amused herself with observing the room as she ate. The professors sat at their table looking jovial, eating their fill. Well, except for Snape of course, who sat glaring at Lupin. It didn't take a genius to deduct that there was bad blood between the two, and the question of why lazily drifted through Anezka's mind, only to be forgotten when pumpkin tarts and chocolate pudding magically filled the now empty spaces that had been occupied by the main courses. As she scooped up some of the pudding onto a plate, she couldn't help but gaze at the potions master once more. His constant suspicious glances towards Lupin were a nice respite from his constant suspicious glances at her.

Dessert ended, and soon the students were dismissed to return to their respective common rooms. No sooner had she settled down on the couch and started to observe the chess board, planning what move she would make on her next turn, when the portal flew open and the sound of long robes and angry footsteps filled the room.

"All of you. To the great hall. Now." Snape spoke loudly to be heard above the din of students. However, then din grew louder at his words as students began to speculate what was wrong.

A blond, pointy-faced third year was the first to approach the professor. "Sir, we all just came from there. Why on earth must we go back."

"Because, Mr. Malfoy," Snape snarled, "Sirius Black has broken into the castle."


	20. Black

He didn't bother escorting his students to the Great Hall, the knew the way on their own and he trusted his prefects enough to make sure everyone got there. Perhaps he should have more concern for his charges, considering Black was a murderer, but if what the Ministry said was true, and the Black had actually been aiding The Dark Lord, then he highly doubted that his Slytherins would be the maniac's target. Only. . . . He knew better.

There had never been one whisper amongst the Death Eaters that Sirius Black was amongst their numbers. Never once had there been any sign that the man who rebelled against his esteemed, pure-blooded family had secretly taken up the cause of magical cleansing. The evidence was and always had been that Black hated all things pure-blood and Dark. Snape had witnessed this hatred first hand for years. However, he also understood Black's cruel nature.

He had no doubt that Sirius was responsible for the death of the muggles that put him in Azkaban. He had no doubt that he had been the Potters' Secret Keeper - that wretched man would trust no one as much as his best friend and fellow bully. With that, either deliberately or inadvertently, Sirius Black was responsible for the Dark Lord discovering the whereabouts of the Potter family, and the death of Lilly. And for that alone, Severus hoped that he was the one to personally turn Black over the Dementors and watch with grim joy as they administered the Kiss. Seeing the soul being violently taking from Black would only be a dim echo of what happened to him the night he heard what Voldemort had done.

He shook himself from his introspection. Now was not the time for brooding, now was the time for a clear and alert mind and full attention. He heard shuffling, wheezing and the occasional meowing from around a corner at the end of the corridor, and shortly his path crossed with Filch. When all the professors had parted ways from Gryffindor tower an hour previously it was with the understanding that the Heads of Houses would be responsible to search the areas around their common rooms, each teacher would be responsible for the area surrounding their classrooms, and Filch would be responsible for the common areas.

"Professor Sprout and Hagrid are searching the grounds, Trelawney and Sinistria are covering the towers and Lupin is scouring the third floor." Filch informed when Snape queried about the location of the rest of the staff.

"The bottom two levels of the dungeons have been searched, all that remains is the last dungeon level and my classroom. See to it if you would Filch, seeing as you perhaps know these levels even better then I." He would be damned if he would let Lupin search an area alone. It was an ill advised idea on so many counts.

Snape had given Lupin the first dose of his potion earlier that day, and while Remus insisted he wasn't due to transform for an other few days, Snape didn't like the risks. He was certain that he had brewed the Wolfsbane correctly and that Lupin wouldn't be any more dangerous as a werewolf then he was as a man, but that didn't comfort him any as he wasn't entirely convinced the man himself wasn't dangerous.

Lupin had always been in cahoots with Black, and he saw little reason why things would be different now. Even though he could not accuse Lupin himself of any wrongdoing without his conscious lecturing him, the new professor had always been guilty by association, and tended to be complicit, perfectly glad to stand by and watch as other did wrong. How many times in their school years, had Remus, a prefect, stood by while Potter and Black jinxed and hexed any fellow student they simply didn't like. Oh, he would lecture his friends, but in the end, he was perfectly content to not do anything to stop them. And what difference was there now. Despite Dumbledore's protestations, it was not beyond the realms of logical plausibility that Lupid held open for the door for his old friend and allowed him to do as he wished.

"Ah, Severus. If you've come to help up here, you are a bit late, I've just finished searching every corner." Lupin said as Snape reached the top of the third floor staircase.

"How convenient. You wouldn't mind if I searched myself would you?" Severus brushed past his colleague carelessly.

Lupin laughed a little. "Why on earth would I mind? Of course you may search after me, if you have nothing better to do." He continued down the stairs - it was his turn to check in with the Head Boy in the Great Hall to make sure all was well with the students. He paused on his third step down, and turned to look at the other man, knowing what he was thinking and feeling he had to address the issue. "I am not hiding him anywhere, Severus. The days where I allow others to do as they wish for friendship's sale are long gone. I wish to find him as much as you do. You must trust me."

"I do not have to trust any one, least of all you. Dumbledore trusts you enough as it is." Snape said and stormed down the hallway, refusing to hear the sincerity in Lupin's tone. He spent two hours, going over every inch of the third floor, with special attention to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, muttering incantations and counter-curses all the way.

Finally he gave up and returned to the Great Hall where he found Dumbledore speaking with the seventh year Weasley boy. He gave his report and asked the Headmaster for his speculations. The answer he received was cagey at best. It was clear Albus was not ready to discuss his thoughts. Snape once again tried to broach the subject of Lupin's connection with Black, but was dismissed by the old fool. There were times when Snape thought there was something very Hufflepuff about Dumbledore - he was loyal, sometimes to the point of stupidity. He sized the man up, and he was sure that his resentment shone through on his face. He didn't understand how Albus could claim loyalty to him and also to Lupin.

He stormed away, not caring of what sleeping students he might disturb. As he crossed the room, he couldn't help but notice the crowd of Slytherins, clearly removed from where the rest of the students were sprawled out. One spikey head stood out amongst them. For a moment it struck him as odd that she was always the first amongst his House that he noticed. He chalked it up to habit, as he was always having to make sure she wasn't getting herself into trouble. It made him breath a sigh of relief that she was where she was supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to be doing. The last thing he needed was her sneaking out and roaming hallways during a state of emergency. It gave him one less thing to worry about, and he found that strangely comforting.


	21. Mission

_A/n; Happy Bonfire Night everyone! Double whammy of chapters coming up here for you all! As a side note - I have set up a blog for this story, so everyone can keep up on how the writing process is going and when to expect chapters , and maybe occasional spoilers. The link is http : / / anezkasova. blogspot. com_. _- Obviously, remove the spaces. __Check it out. Cheers, BEG1_

Thursdays always started well for Anezka. Tuesdays and Thursdays started with Herbology, and that was something worth getting out of bed for in her opinion. It was the only class she was ever early for, no matter how long it took her to wake up and leave the dorms. The first Thursday in November was no different. She crawled out of bed, made a half hearted attempt at dressing and then went straight to the greenhouses, only stopping in the great hall for a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.

She stood underneath the glass building's awning, in an effort to stay out of the morning rain, alternating her consumption between food, drink and cigarette for a moment before going in, and couldn't help but be amused by the conversation that she was overhearing from the other side of the structure.  
"Mum said she wouldn't send me any. Said she was afraid I'd blow myself up and that even magic can't fix you when you are blown to smithereens."

"Yeah, the ones I ordered got nicked by Filch just about as soon as they got delivered." A second voice replied after the first.  
"Well, this is just horrible. Tomorrow is Guy Fawkes day and we have NO fireworks." The first boy moaned. "It's going to be as dull as last year. Sometimes, it sucks going to Hogwarts."

Anezka quickly dropped her cigarette into a puddle and rounded the corner. Two boys, clearly brothers, stood there, shocked to see anyone outside so early. She didn't recognize them. One was a second year Ravenclaw, the other was a little Hufflepuff firstie. "Can I help?"

"Help? With what?" The older boy tried to look innocent.

"Help with blowing shit up. I promise, my rates are reasonable."

Break couldn't come fast enough after Herbology. Usually she hated when the bell rang. She'd much rather be playing in dirt then be almost anywhere else, but today was not one of those days. Even Professor Sprout had commented on her lack of attention. But now she had fifteen minutes to herself until History, and really, she could keep working through history, as she usually used that as a time to nap anyway. She had made a deal with those brothers – who also had a flock of other muggle-born friends who wanted to celebrate their favourite holiday – that if they could split the cost of the supplies she would use, she could make enough explosives that they would have been able to actually blow up parliament, should the fancy take them. However, the first problem she faced was the fact that she wasn't sure what all she would need.

As Professor Binns droned on and on about the Giants Civil War of 1322, she scribbled furiously in a spiral bound notebook, a list of ingredients and different combinations. She worked this way through lunch as well, and the Argent twins were starting to get concerned. Clearly she was unwell, as she never put this much effort into anything.

Before the meal had ended she had finished, and wrote down what her total costs would be. But she now had a second problem – where was she going to get some of the ingredients on such short notice.

The afternoon wore on, filled with the mind numbing dullness of a Muggle Studies dedicated to the Gunpowder Rebellion, and the frustrating tedium of Ancient Runes and the evening after classes wasn't much better.

Her fingers itched to start her brewing. The recipe she had set up for herself was perfect and she spent the entire evening sorting through her trunk of supplies. Everything was there – Blasting Mushroom Caps, Dragon Flint, Powdered Firebeetle Shells . . . everything except Ashwinder Eggs.

Despite their being classified as extremely dangerous, and being subject to strict trading regulations, Anezka found them to be terribly useful things, and in her new experiment's case, absolutely vital. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to bring any with her when she came to school. Luckily she knew where she could get her hands on them.

It was well past midnight when she finally made her move. She gathered up her glass bottles and vials, some filled with various liquids and powders and plants, others completely empty and carefully packed them into the largest cauldron that she had. With slightly less care she threw some addition equipment into her knapsack, earning her a ferocious squeak.  
"Sorry Harold." She hadn't seen her pet in a few days, as he often liked going on excursions on his own, but he often came back to sleep in her bag. He had his own little pocket and he had made it quite cosy with various pieces of lint, paper and a bit of torn sock for a pillow. She opened the bag wider to look at his small, pointy face. "You coming along tonight?" He grunted in response and she took that to mean yes, and retrieved him from the sack and sat him on the floor as she finished packing.

Once everything was in order, she made a quick and silent dash to the abandoned dungeon that Onyx had used all those weeks before to tutor her in Charms. It was quiet and secluded and the temperature was cool, which was always nice for a brewing room. Taking a few more moments to set up her mixing cauldrons and mortar and pestle sets, she finally felt it was late enough to start the dangerous part of the night. "Alright, lock and load, Hedgehog." She spoke to the spiky critter at her feet, as she took out two bottles, one larger one that she shoved into the front pocket of her bag and a smaller one that got tucked down the front of her blouse. Before she left, she drew her fingers through some mud that was encrusted on the dungeon's wall and smeared it across her cheeks, like she was some sort of action film commando, making sure the excess on her fingers darkened Harold's small white face.

Her feet were bare, this time not because she had lost her shoes, but because she knew the value of silence in covert operations. She ducked quickly from doorway, to shadowy corner, wand drawn and held it gun-like, between both hands and held high, by her face.

She reached the potion's supply closet without incident, and a simple _alohamora_ worked to open the door. "Really, Snapykins, can't do any better then that?" She muttered as she pushed the heavy oak door slowly, to prevent any audible creaks or groans from the hinges. Creating a light with her wand she looked up and down the shelves, trying to find what she was looking for. Clearly, he thought that an unusual organization and his illegible handwriting would be enough to deter theft.

The Ashwinder eggs were easy enough to spot though, once she reached the right shelf. A perma-frost charm had been cast on them and a layer of frost glazed the wide mouthed glass jar that contained them. Pulling out the small bottle, she quickly filled it with ten of the small, grey, oblong eggs. She winced a little as the now frigid bottle was replaced in the side of her bra strap, and she couldn't help but shiver as she moved on to filling the larger bottle.

As soon as that one was half full, she replaced the original bottle exactly as it had been on the shelf, and made sure no other sign of her entry remained.

She and Harold started their path back in the same manner, edging along walls and avoiding open corridors, all the while, humming a catchy, spy-like sounding tune.

Just as she was making the last turn before her dungeon hidey-hole, a snide voice pierced the dark. "If you think humming the 'Mission; Impossible' theme music makes you inconspicuous, you are very much mistaken."

Dumbledore was wearing a bright purple paisley dressing gown over his favourite pair of sheep-adorned flannel pyjamas, when he finally made an appearance in his office. He paused, looking at the two figures waiting for him. '_If only Severus and Miss Sova could __see themselves as I do_,' Albus thought to himself, hiding a chuckle that neither would appreciate. They both wore a similar petulant expression, and held themselves much the same way with their arms crossed in front of them, but with their shoulders back, as if they were squaring up to fight. Both refused to look at the other.

"I am sorry to disturb you so late in the night, Headmaster. I would not have done so if it was not of the utmost importance."

"I dare say. It's not like you, Severus, to wake me from my dreams for a curfew breaker."

A low growl prefaced Snape's words. "It is far worse then a curfew malfeasance. There is a little matter of the theft of potion ingredients."

"ALLEGED theft of potion ingredients." Anezka finally spoke, and sounded quite offended. "I've already said a million times, they are mine."

Her professor scoffed. "If that is the case then there is just the little matter of you transporting a class three controlled ingredient without proper trade certification."

Anezka's grey eyes rolled. "Are you deaf? I got these at home in Romania! They aren't as strictly controlled there."

"Do you really expect me to believe that? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Dumbledore let them bicker amongst themselves for a moment while he yawned, but finally, he intervened. "Please, now, both of you. There is no reason why we can't handle this sensibly." He summoned some tea from the kitchens and started pouring three cups. "Please, Professor, state you complaint."

"I want this . . . . miscreant, expelled."

Dumbledore handed Snape the china teacup. "I had gathered that, but I must know why."

"I was patrolling the hallways and found her running amok in the corridors hours past curfew. As if that wasn't inadmissible enough for her, upon asking Miss Sova to turn out her pockets, I found this!" He held up the large glass bottle, half filled with the eggs. "At least twenty Ashwinder Eggs, no doubt taken from my own stores."

Before Anezka could angrily protest, a cup of tea was shoved into her hands. "Could you please relate your side of the story, Miss Sova?"

"Sure. I was out . . . . going to the . . . .uh, the loo . . ."  
"There are bathrooms in your dormitory!" Snape bellowed.

Her face held the same angry cast that his did. "I'm scared of those toilets, what's it too you?"

"Scared? Of the TOILETS? This is a strange phobia to develop three months into term."

"Please, Severus, let her finish." Dumbledore hushed the younger man. "Please, Miss Sova, continue."

Her pointed nose curled up. "Sorry, I'm not talking while he's still in the room. I refuse to be accused with no proof. It's against my civil liberties."

Just as Snape was about to lose control, Dumbledore dismissed him kindly. "Severus, would you please wait outside?" He motioned towards the door. "I would like the chance to interview Miss Sova in private." Storming out, Snape's grumblings were heard long after his foot-falls had fallen silent. "Please, continue your story."

"So, I had this nightmare about a week ago. There was a toilet gremlin living in the girls' dorm bathroom. And I mean, I knew it was just a dream, but I have a very psycho-somatic bowel and ever since that freaky dream I haven't been able to go in there. Speaking of which, we might want to stop serving trout curry for dinner, pretty sure it had some very interesting effects on my subconscious. At any rate, so I woke up around midnight busting for a pee. . . .

He story trailed off in many directions but Dumbledore listened patiently, and often times amused, to her tale, and in the end he couldn't help himself from smiling. "Well, Miss Sova, a very interesting tale, to say the least. And you are entirely correct, Professor Snape has no real evidence against you, only circumstance."

"So, I'm not getting expelled, right?" She asked, as if she was already certain of the answer.

"No. Not this time. However, you were caught out of bed, very late, so I am afraid you will have to server at least two detentions for that. As for these," He picked up the bottle of eggs, "Whether they be yours or not, I will have to confiscate them, as they are particularly dangerous."

For a moment, Anezka no longer looked like a peevish teenager, but a small child who was upset because her favourite toy was being taken away. "But . . . they aren't dangerous when they are frozen!" Her voice almost held a whine to it.

The headmaster nodded sympathetically. "But should they unfreeze, they may cause a lot of damage." He took the bottle and put it away in a drawer and dismissed the student, and miraculously, she obeyed with little argument or chatter. Just as her hand was on the doorknob to leave the office, Dumbledore called her name. She paused and turned back to look at him. "The other vial, if you don't mind." He held his hand out.

Anezka froze, her expression of confusion perfectly hid the reckless path of defence her mind was taking. "What other vial?" Was the best prevarication she could come up with.

"The one you are hiding somewhere on your person, which is no doubt the reason for the goosebumps you've had this entire time." His blue eyes sparkled with mirth. "It is very clever, and many would not realize what you had done, but alas, I am very old and have been teaching for more years then I care to admit, and this would not be the first time that a student had tried to double bluff me."

"Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?" She grumbled as she returned to the desk and retrieved the chilled glass.

"One more thing, before you go, then." Dumbledore stood and crossed to the perch that his bird slept on. "If you add phoenix ashes to floo powder and mix them in capsule of elfin gelatin, they will act much the same was as Ashwinder eggs when dropped into combustible potions, only they will be less volatile during storage." He scooped up some of the sooty dust that lined the bottom of the perch and placed it into an empty tea cup and handed it to her. "Now, don't you think you had best be off to bed?"

When she passed Snape in the hallway, she seemed almost content, and was carrying a teacup. That was not the expression Snape had wanted to see on her. Hurriedly, he returned to the headmaster's office. "Well?" He asked, without ceremony.

"She is to have two days of detentions for being out past curfew."

"That is all?" Severus scoffed. "Surely you didn't believe that ridiculous story of hers."

"Not entirely, no. But she did bring up the very valid point that you had no evidence against her. Even if you should find out that your stores are lacking, you cannot prove that the ones you found in her possession are the ones that are missing." Dumbledore handed him both the large and the smaller bottle.

"There was a second jar?" Snape asked, tonelessly, angry with himself for having underestimated the girl. "The first one was a decoy in case she got caught . . ."

"Yes, and to think, I employed you to be my spy, yet you can't even outwit a teenaged girl." Dumbledore poked, but his words were lined with a friendly laugh. "Don't loose sleep over it, Severus. I myself would not have even thought to check for an auxiliary supply, if it hadn't been for a young Slytherin some twenty-odd years ago, who desperately wanted to learn how to brew Veritaserum and was caught with Jobberknell feathers in his bag. Oddly enough, he still managed to, due largely in part to a secret pocket on this inside of his school robes."

This quieted Snape for a moment. "That was different. I had actually knew what I was doing."

"Do you really think that she is so incapable that she would burn the school down?" Dumbledore asked, and Snape didn't respond, as he did not like the answer. "On an other topic, do you realize that tomorrow is Bonfire Night


	22. Bonfire

For the second morning in a row, Anezka skipped out of breakfast early. However, her destination was not the greenhouses, but a small plain of grass down by the lake. A flock of her muggle-born clients stood gathered, waiting for her. The original two boys she had originally over-heard had apparently started taking up donations and gathering compatriots.

"Right, so I am going to hide the fireworks here, behind that bush. See these little green, squishy things?" The all nodded as she held them, up. "There is going to be a separate box of them. They are your starters. You have about ten seconds from when you drop them into the potions to get your asses under cover. You are going to need about 20 feet of clearance, so, please, don't blow yourselves up, and if you do, I was never involved. Also, since you placed such a large order, I put a gratis litre of propellent in the case for you, so you can get a decent bonfire going. Now I highly recommend we all get to class before we attract any suspicions."

They all parted ways to their separate classes, Anezka taking the time it took to walk from the lake to the castle to chain smoke three cigarettes in an effort to wake up. She had Transfiguration first, and Goggles's class was not one she could sleep through.

They had been working most of the semester on animal to human transfigurations, before they pushed onto Anamorphamagical transfigurations after the holidays.

By the end of class, all Anezka had really learned was that Harold made a decent looking bloke – a bit short, but with dashing salt-and-pepper coloured hair that stood out at odd angles, just like hers. She was glad to have him back in animal form after all was done and said though, as the human-shaped Harold kept trying to crawl into her bag and the squeaks and grunts weren't as charming coming from a full grown male.

She decided to spend her break in her next classroom, which happened to be Defence against the dark arts. In desperate need of a nap after the previous night's escapades, she figured she could grab a few winks in the empty room, and still manage to not be late for class. As she was already fully booked on detentions, she didn't wish to press her luck.

Her head stayed down as her classmates entered the room, and it wasn't until the door slammed closed as the class was to start.

"Professor Lupin is taking a sick day, I am supervising his classes. I expect you all to be in your seats and silent within the next sixty seconds." Snape said as he positioned himself behind Lupin's desk.

Anezka, always curious, and always keen to irritate her Head of House, couldn't help but speak up. "So, wait. Why are you here again." Anezka scratched her head with one hand while the other was in the air, pretending to ask permission to speak.

"I have already said, Miss Sova, Professor Lupin is ill. Now, open your text book."

She paused, then raised her hand again, but spoke before being called on. "Doesn't Madam Pomfrey have something he could take?"  
Snape hid a sigh. "He has been given everything he needs."  
"And he still can't teach?"

"No."

"Well, what's he got?"

"I don't see how that signifies. Now, open your. . ."

"Well it does. I mean, what's so serious that he can't just take something and prop himself up in the front of class. I mean, what's he got? Plague? Leprosy? Even leprosy he could still teach, he just would have to make sure he doesn't cough up any lung-butter on us and to pick up any fingers that might fall off." The whole class, Gryffindors included started to chuckle, but quickly silenced themselves when they saw Snape's glare.

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, Miss Sova, Professors are not accountable to the students. It is quite the other way around. As such I will brook no more questions on Professor Lupin's whereabouts." No one could see the relief that he felt when her hand went down and silence filled the room.  
He flicked his wand and the chalk scrawled across the board, writing a page number that was in a completely different section of the text then they had been studying.  
"Professor?" Only an Argent would have the audacity to question him when he was so clearly aggravated. "We've gone past that part already. We covered Werewolves last year. We are onto Vampires."

"Yes, I imagine that Professor Lockhart's text was a remarkable piece of fiction. I would prefer if you all were to actually learn something."

"Oh, but vampires are ever so much more fun." Anezka spoke again. "I mean, some would even argue as to whether or not Vampires are strictly speaking a 'dark' being. I mean sure, there is that whole selling your soul thing, but I am sure most Vampires out there in this day and age are more the by-products of the soul-selling set." Her tongue tripped over itself she spoke so quickly. "And while I am by no means some whingey 'vampire-rights' activist I can't help but feel that they are getting a bit of a bum rap."

"Well, as you find them so intriguing, an essay on them will be due along with the paper on Lycanthropy that I had already planned on assigning this class." Snape's smirk was slight, but filled with malice and grew as the groans flooded forward from the students. "I will give you the class to get a start on it then, shall I?" The class started to pull parchment from their bags, causing a general din of movement and chatter. "In silence." The noise dissipated as quickly as it rose.

Anezka's mind was, however, being anything but still and silent. She aimlessly paged through the section on Werewolves. She could write the paper on vampires in her sleep, but Snape's sudden fixation on Lycanthropy intrigued her, especially considering what she knew he was brewing. She truly had no interest in his reason for brewing wolfsbane – she had assumed that maybe he sold on the side of teaching. But this new development seemed to speak of something more. And when there was more to things then met the eye, Anezka knew that usually there was blackmail of some kind to be had.

She pulled out a piece of scrap parchment, and started writing.  
_Things I know;_

_Snape is brewing wolfsbane_

_By the tone in his letter, he's actually brewing it FOR someone, rather then just to resell, or else he wouldn't have such need for expediency._

_Lupin is ill, so Snape is substituting. This is important, cause for reasons unknown, Snape clearly hates Lupin, and supposedly wants his job._

_While substituting, Snape has become semi-obsessed with making sure we know how to defend ourselves against werewolves, despite the fact that I am pretty sure that he wouldn't give a damn if Lon Chaney Jr himself tried to take a bite out of all of us. _

She paused and scanned over what she had written down. Nothing particularly stood out to her, so she started to write more.

_Things we can conclude from above facts; Snape assigned us werewolf homework because he wants us to figure out who he's brewing the potion for but won't just tell us. But why not? And why would he want us to know . .. _

She looked over the page again, and this time, something caught her eye. Several somethings, not one of them special or written in a way to attract her notice, but enough to jolt her fuzzy subconscious into working a bit harder. Underlining things, she felt a frenzy one feels when a puzzle is about to be completed. _Lupin is ill. . . . Snape hates him. . . wants us to know who it is, but won't just tell us. Also won't tell us where Lupin is or what he's got. Wants his job . . ._

Her hand froze and she looked across the room to the teacher's desk, where Snape sat, watching the class like a hawk.

_Sweet baby Christ!_ She wrote, not even looking down at the page. _Lupin is a __werewolf._

Now that Anezka had solved the not quite so subtle mystery, she had to decide what she wanted to do with it. If Snape hadn't wanted her, or anyone for that matter to know, he wouldn't have broken from curriculum to teach them about werewolves, so it could hardly be used against him. And Lupin himself was so goodhearted, that he was easy enough to manipulate, even without blackmail. Surely, Dumbledore would be in a peck of trouble if word got out that he had hired a werewolf, but undoubtedly he had already weighed the consequences of being found out. There was nothing for it. She had spent the last thirty minutes piecing together the clues only to have the solution be completely uninteresting, at least to her.

For the brief time left in the class, she hurriedly put together at least one of her essays so she wouldn't have to bother with it later, and then scrambled out with the rest of the class at the bell's first ring. Crumpling up her scrap paper, she tossed it in the waste basket, confident that the house-elves would use it as kindling before anyone else would ever see it. She had never pegged Snape as the kind to rummage through trash, but his curiosity got the better of him, and after all the students had departed, he _accio'_d the paper too himself.

Snape had learned his lesson the night before and had decided he would no longer underestimate his student. When he saw the Sova girl throw out a piece of paper on the way out the door, he retrieved it. No doubt it would be filled with more rubbish, perhaps at best more scribbled potions notes, but any information or insight would prove useful.

He didn't unfold the parchment until he had returned to his own, empty classroom. All the students were now at lunch and he usually revelled in the half hour of complete silence. He sat down and flattened her note out in front of him and groaned as the last sentence on the page leapt to him first.

Oddly enough, her writing this time followed a concise train of thought, and exhibited a very deductive method of thinking, although, he couldn't give her any kind of credit. He had all but drawn the various classes he had taught a diagram. But still, the voice in the back of his head laughed at him and pointed out that despite his supposed patency, she had been the only student to have figured it out so far. Snape responded with a growl and threw the paper in the fire.

The thought stuck with him though. She had put together not only the clues he had left for the students, but her own observations. Not to mention her act from the night before. He had to grudgingly admit that she had bested him. Thank god that Dumbledore had been there or else the mad child would be running around with class three inflammable items. Her trick had been clever though. Oh, if an adult had tried such a cheap deception on him, Snape would have seen right through it, but he had long since become accustomed to the fact that most students, Slytherins included, usually didn't have such skillfull guile, and any attempts at such were obvious.

"Maybe she does belong in Slytherin." Snape murmured to himself, and that was the largest concession he'd give the pest. But that voice again, the sweet conscience, told him that from him, that was one of the highest compliments he could give. "Damn her!" He swore, irritated that he could do nothing but resentfully respect her skill.

"Hi Snapeykins! I hope you appreciate the fact that I skipped dessert so as not to be late for your class. I know you are already peeved at me cause of last night."

He had forgotten he had sixth year potions after lunch, and her sudden appearance darkened his mood even more.

He didn't speak to her, and she took that as a sign to be silent, instead she started setting up the equipment on her table. The rest of the class filtered in and he set them all to their tasks, and decided that he would ignore them for the double-block class. He had some of his own brewing to do, and that was mostly likely the safer thing for him to do. Dumbledore always disapproved when he took his temper out on the students.

The minutes flew by quickly as he immersed himself in his work. To say that he loved potions was not necessarily true. He did not find any kind of happiness in it, but he found solace in it. He felt neutral whilst he brewed and for a man on a constant torrent of anger, resentment and angst, neutral was good. Potions was his escape, and he hated the fact that his escape was constantly invaded by meddlesome students.

Today was no different. No sooner had he fallen into a the trance like state of brewing then the bell rang and the students were making a general din. He chose to ignore it, until he heard a throat clear behind him.

"So, what do you want me to do for detention?" Anezka said with a smirk on her face.

He looked up and glared at her. "Get. Out." He decided that three class periods in a row with her, after the chaos of last night was more then enough – detention would be more of a punishment to him. "I don't want to set eyes on you for the next three days."

Anezka grinned and turned and ran out the doors for dinner.

The evening progressed and Snape didn't leave his office, he went from brewing to grading papers, to reading, to brewing and nothing disturbed him until suddenly he heard a rumble and the sound of an explosion.

After years of experience, he jumped up immediately, and ran at full speed to the main door, meeting Dumbledore on the way, who was rather more strolling leisurely. They didn't speak as they started walking down the grassy knoll, just in time to see another firework go off.

Down, by the late a cluster of boys placed a small jam-jar sized bottle in a clearing and dropped something small and green in it. As soon as the capsule was dropped, the boys all ran furiously, laughing and cheering. Suddenly, the jar ignited and a large pillar of umber coloured flame spurted up five meters into the night sky, with bright sparks of purple, green and pink flames shooting higher and flowering across the horizon.

Over across the same field a large fire was being built, with a small hoard of students gathered around, some roasting marshmallows, others stuffing straw into old clothes. Another fire-work went off, to many more cheers.

Dumbledore laughed and turned to Snape. "Happy Guy Fawkes day, Severus."


	23. Fight

Saturday dawned brightly and Severus found himself irritated by the bright blue sky and chirping autumn birds that lined the ceiling.

"Am I to understand, Headmaster, that not only has my class load been doubled whilst Professor Lupin is," Snape paused meaningfully, "indisposed, but that I am now also required to supervise his weekend activities as well."

Dumbledore chose to ignore the obviously aggravated tone in Severus's words. "I thought you would leap at the chance, my boy. When Remus asked me to find someone who could competently run a simulated battle, I thought no one would be more capable then you. And considering that you have always expressed an interest in the Defense Against The Dark Arts I imagined you would be keen." As soon as he finished speaking, the old professor sipped his tea, gauging the younger man's reaction carefully.

"But what has he been going over with them? How has this whole misguided club been run? Has he left any sort of guidance or notes on what I am to do, since he is in no condition to tell me himself." Snape growled, stabbing violently at his scrambled eggs, causing silver to squeak against china.

"He did not leave any notes, but as you disregarded the ones he left for his class, I imagine you may do as you see fit. Go over defensive spells and wards. Have them practice them. It's not terribly complicated as I see it."

"Then get someone else to monitor this glorified Dueling Club." Quipped Snape.

"Oh, now isn't that an idea. Have them practice their dueling skills."

Snape didn't bother continuing the discussion. Dumbledore had an infuriating way of asking people to do things, without ever really meaning to give them a choice in the matter. Pushing the almost untouched plate of food away, Snape stood and walked away.  
Wasting no time, he made his way to the Castle doors, and out to the grounds. According to what Albus had told him, the group usually met by nine, and he only had five minutes to arrive promptly and as he didn't want the students to get any ideas about doing anything fun or disruptive whilst waiting, he was determined not to be late.

As he walked, two thoughts crossed his mind. First was his fervent hope that this didn't turn out to be anything like the escapades from two years since, when that fool Lockhart had tried something similar to this. The second thought was a simpler one, when it dawned on him that there must not be any Slytherins in the class. The only sixth and seventh years that weren't preoccupied with Quidditch hardly needed practice in _defending_ themselves against dark arts.

As he came upon the cluster of students that had gathered by the lake, Snape felt that old familiar gut-wrenching realization that he assumed too much, too soon settle in. Small groupings of friends, and cliques of girls stood about, gossiping and boasting amongst themselves, all but for one. A slight, pale girl, sat on the damp ground, leaning against a tree. She shivered as the November wind cut across the meadow, and she clung to her smoldering cigarette almost as if for warmth, rather then to smoke it. He recognized her expression as one he wore himself, and often – distaste and silent scorn of those around her.

Refusing to let the thought unsettle him, as it at first seemed to do, he proceeded onward, ordering all the teen's attention by a barked command. "Gather around." They all quickly fell silent and approached him cautiously, nervous as to what the day's activities would hold. "Professor Lupin left no instructions on what you have been doing during these sessions." He ignored the few brave hands that shot up. "No do I have any interest in hearing such things." The hands instantly dropped. "I do not care about whatever teams you were on, or which group has what points. Today, we are going to be testing your mettle when it comes to single combat. It is all well and good to hide behind rocks and cast spells at an unseen opponents, but many who excel at such cowardly battles often will crack when forced to look into their enemies eyes and down the length of their wand." He paused, scanning the crowd, almost wishing someone would argue with him. "Divide up by twos. No one from your own House, and no one from whatever ridiculous teams Professor Lupin has put you on. Victors will then be paired with other victors." The students shuffled about, and took far longer pairing off then was called for, earning them all a snarl and assigned partners. "Begin!"

No one moved at first, all too stunned, or too unsure of what they were supposed to be doing. A few brave souls turned to the teacher and asked for rules or more instructions. They were given none, other then sharp words. Snape's only thought to himself was that, were these children ever in an actual fight, there would be no one to coach them through, so they had best learn to figure things out on their own.

Only one student was brave enough, or rather, clever enough to take advantage of the confusion. While the seventh year boy she was partnered with was too busy looking around to see what everyone else was doing, Anezka fired off a quick curse at him. That seemed to set everyone off and soon, the multiple colours of different spells were flying from the modified joke wands. As Snape circled around the groups, he couldn't help but fear for the future generations, if this was a fair sample of their fighting skills. Soon, the cry of, "Sir, she's cheating! Make her stop!" was heard, but Snape, having no doubt where it was coming from, chose to ignore it.

He called the end of the round, and had the students switch partners, dividing them into to groups this time – winners and losers. The whole process repeated itself and each time he was surprised to see Anezka surviving. For certain, she was tenacious and not above cheating, but surely she wasn't so good as to have beaten some of the best students in the whole school. . . .

Unable to prevent himself, he found her watching her closely. There were several sharp contrasts between her and the Gryffindor she was now dueling. The boy carried himself as if a noble storybook prince, fighting a mortal enemy, his rigid posture was painfully straight and tense. Sova's stance was as opposite as it could be, slouched and constantly moving, looking like a drunk in a pub brawl. He seemed content to wait until she had cast a curse before retaliating, while she barely let him speak his jinxes before firing two back. The spells she used were juvenile at best, asinine hexes a first year would know. And yet, while her partner's shirt was covered in the marks from the wands, the white thermal shirt she wore under the unbuttoned flannel blouse was largely unscarred. She was merely wining on bluster, cheating and ingenuity.  
"STOP!" Snape shouted over the din and everyone froze in a second, except for Anezka, who took the advantage to fire off a final blow. Snape approached them. "Miss Sova, as it appears no one else seems capable of offering you even the slightest challenge to your meager skills, perhaps we should make it more difficult for you." He quickly drew his own wand with his right hand, whilst snatching the specialty wand from Gretchen with his left. "Approach, Miss Sova."

Anezka warily stepped towards her professor, one eyebrow raised. "Should I be worried that you are holding two wands? I mean, really, I wouldn't normally be bothered, but I don't get a real wand, see." She brandished the play wand with a flourish. "And, well, it won't do much if you start using that thing." Falling silent, she pointed at his right hand.

_If I was allowed to use dangerous spells on students, do you think I would not have already have done so?_ Snape thought to himself, holding his duel wands aloft, in a combat ready pose and remained silent.

Without waiting for further explanation, interpreting his stance as challenge, Anezka quickly mumbled a simple incantation, but before the spell could hit its mark Snape parried it with the wand he held in his left hand, a quickly placed a stillness charm on his student with his own wand in his right hand. "While most of you stood waiting for a formal invitation to fight, Miss Sova made a point to hit quickly. Some would call this cheating. However, if you were to ever be in a real duel, any enemy would not hesitate to hit while you observe foolish niceties. If one wishes to live, one must learn to cheat." Without word, but a flick of his wrist, he reversed the stillness charm and Anezka started moving again, and with a flurry of movement, she shouted out four jinxes in quick order. Once again, they bounced away from Snape as he countered them with the tournament wands, and once again Anezka's movement was magically halted. "Ah ha. Another tactic the less skilled can be thwarted by. The furious onslaught. While the more easily distracted simpletons are intimidated by such theatrics, by keeping a strict focus, any one of you could have noticed that the spells she, and others who fight like her, are common at best, and easily repelled with simple blocking charms, and the more time you waste in involved counter-attacks is more time for any of her elementary curses to hit their mark. Defense is more important than offense. Without defense, one will not have the chance to attack. Let's see how yours is, shall we?" He asked Anezka sardonically, noting her eyes in her otherwise stone-still face. Their grey depths held a glint that was both cynical and amused as they bore holes into Snape's own dark eyes. She was clearly sizing him up and trying to gauge him. He would just have to make sure to take her by surprise.

As soon as she could move again, she started shifting her stance, back and forth, in constant motion. He tried to not be impressed – only an idiot would stand, waiting to be a static target. It wasn't any credit to her that every other student seemed to think that they were supposed to stand still and take whatever blows came their way. He quickly fired off three curses, in rapid succession, without a word. The first she managed to dodge, the second she repelled and the third hit her in a non-vital blow to the right arm. With a fury that seemed far to energetic for her usually lackadaisical demeanor, she fired off a new curse at him – one that was a bit more malicious then the ones she had been previously using, but by knowing what she was casting, Snape parried it with barely any movement. "Tsk, Tsk. Someone has been neglecting her non-verbal spells."

Meanwhile, the rest of the students stood, mouth agape, absorbing the activity and trying to comprehend all that was happening. At first, all had assumed that Snape had meant to 'show-off' his Slytherin student who had been so thoroughly trouncing them all, but now he was making a show of her. And while it was clear that he had the upper hand, without even trying, no one could help but be impressed that Anezka was holding her own as well as she was.

Wanting to finish the farce of a duel, Snape being no more then four feet from his opponent, cast a final blow point blank, that he knew she would not be able to counter or dodge. But instead of watching his wand, Anezka's glare was fixed on his face, trying to read the inscrutable lines around his eyes. What she did next, he never would have thought of her. She made no attempt to stop or avoid the attack, but instead ran right towards the spray of colour that was flying her way. Before he realized what her intent was, she slid towards the ground, just as the spell was hitting her chest and suddenly he felt sharp kick to his shin and he toppled to the ground, dropping both wands he held. He lay flat for a moment, trying to discern what his legs were entangled in. With shock and disgust he realized that it was his students own legs and with a slight horror, it dawned on him that she had resorted to a physical attack, for which he was not prepared. A common slide-tackle, as the muggle sports fans if the world would call it.

Pushing himself up from the ground abruptly, he ignored her yelps as he stood on her foot, and quickly retrieved his wand from the soft grass that it was laying on. "And that is the final lesson – the defeated are will always do something rash and stupid once they realize that they have been bested. Detention, Miss Sova, for assaulting a professor, and ten points from Slytherin. You are all dismissed."

Leaving her to a student to help up, Snape turned quickly and made his way towards the castle, not even bothering to wait for the students to leave the meadow. It wasn't until he returned to his office that he noticed a dark green dye seeping slowly through the fabric of his robes from under his left arm.

"Dammit!" He closed his eyes and swore. Despite all, she had silently landed a "killing" blow as he fell. She had sized him up, determined that he was assured of his victory and found a way to create a weakness. While she failed, she had made sure he had failed too. "Twenty points to Slytherin." He sighed. Anezka Sova was proving to be more difficult to judge with every passing day.


	24. Holidays

"Now, is it just me, or is there something entirely fucked up and perverse about a bunch of sneaky, opportunistic elitists celebrating Christmas? I mean, the last time I checked it is supposed to be all about joy and peace and kindness and goodwill to all men and all that feel-good emotional crap." Anezka was lying upside down, half off the common room couch, intently staring at the chess set in front of her.

On the other side of the room, Jade and Onyx, and a few of the seventh year girls had just finished setting up a modest Fraser fir in the corner closest to the fire place. Its silvery-green needles were well matched to the crystal and hand-painted Christmas ornaments and bows, all in House colours that they were using to adorn its boughs.

"Oh, shut up, Anezka." Came Jade's articulate response as she nestled an enchanted Fairy's nest into the pine branches, causing the silvery creatures to start buzzing around the tree, their luminescence creating a glow.

Ignoring the juvenile jibe, Anezka rolled over and pulled out a parchment that was shoved between the cushions. It looked as if it had been folded and refolded a million times. India ink was slashed across the page in a hasty and lopsided scrawl. She reread the words, even though she knew what they said, "_Dragă, Are you certain that you do not wish to come here for the Christmas holiday? I know you said that you were looking forward to the quiet time at the school, but surely you'd rather be here with your family? I would have invited your mother, too, so you wouldn't have to choose with whom to spend your leave, but your Grandmother has forbidden it. You remember how they never got along well . . . .I tried insisting, but she already had the whole place warded against her. I had hoped that maybe, if we all could have spent the time together, like a family again . . . She wouldn't come even if she were allowed. Please make sure to send us a wish list so we can send many presents on to you at school. Multa dragoste, printesa mea."_

"Christ, he can't even make up his mind on what letter he's writing!" Anezka moaned to herself and re-crumbled the paper and shoved back between the couch cushions. "First you beg me to come home, then you ramble on and on about mum and grandma – of course they don't like each other, one's a selfish bint and the other is a domineering nag. And then, to start in about wanting to be a family again . . . I'm not your goddamn therapist!"

"Talking to yourself again, are you?" Jade paused in between hanging ornaments to look at her classmate. "That's a sign of insanity you know." Her tone was a cross between sceptical and accusitory.

Not even flinching, or looking towards the girl that spoke, Anezka just sighed and closed her eyes. "My great-uncle Horatiu, who actually works with mentally unstable wizards, says it's okay if you talk to yourself, it's even OK if yourself answers back, it's when yourself starts saying 'huh?' that you should be concerned."  
Having no answer for this, Jade turned to face the tree again. "Have you had any ideas what to get for Professor Snape for Christmas yet?"

"No. I was hoping that we would find something at Hogsmeade tomorrow." Onyx responded, sounding glum.

"Well, as long as it's better then that terrible scarf you picked out for him last year." Jade sniped as she scattered some tinsel.

Onyx frowned then hung a diamond-like snowflake. "I don't seem to recall you offering any better suggestions at the time."

"Wait . . . you're buying an xmas prezzie for Snapykins? Is that, like, a requirement?" Anezka finally rose from the couch and crossed the room to stand closer to the others.

"Hardly. The general consensus seems to be that you have to like people before you buy a present for them. However, we've been raised in polite society where one buys something for one's superiors at the holidays." Jade explained, waving her wand to place the finishing touches on the tree.

"Papa insists that anything that can be done to encourage a powerful person's good opinion of you is a wise thing." Onyx added, as she charmed some water into the base of the tree stand.

"So . . . . it's a bribe?" With a quirked eyebrow, Anezka started biting the nail on her thumb.

"Bribe is such an ugly word. Think of it as a gift of appreciation." Vanishing the unused decorations and trash from their efforts, Jade turned to her sister. "I think we should get to bed early tonight since we are going into town tomorrow." It was said as a suggestion, but clearly the one twin was ordering the other.

They, along with the few other students, disappeared into their bedchambers, once again leaving Anezka alone in the dimly lit common room. She collapsed in the wing chair, and stared into the fire.

Onyx's words kept echoing in her head, 'anything that can be done to encourage a powerful person's good opinion of you is a wise thing.' Surely, she didn't _need_ Snape's good opinion. She wasn't sure there would ever be anything she could do to garner it, having found every last nerve the man possessed and intentionally getting on it. Besides, in her mind it was even debatable if it was humanly possible for _anyone_ to be on the man's good side, as it seemed he didn't have one. He hated everyone equally, and oddly enough, that made her like him a little bit more.

But there was something to be said for a good graft. Unfortunately, she would have nothing to gain by it, except that if she gave him a spectacular gift, maybe he would lighten up, even just for a few hours. Not knowing why, the thought of him being pleased with something amused her, and she started puzzling about what gift she could give him.

It was hours until she moved again – morning in fact. The time had passed without her cognition, and she still sat, staring at the fire, thinking, when the Argent girls had awoken and were on their way to breakfast.

"Did you sleep last night? Do you _ever_ sleep?" Onyx asked as Anezka silently started to follow them to the great hall.

"Other then in class that is." Jade whispered to herself.

Anezka didn't answer, and instead just sat quietly to herself while the others ate. If it hadn't been for her usual routine of making herself a cup of coffee and the occasional conversation that she held with herself, the others would have thought that she was sleep-walking, or even _Imperio_'ed.

It wasn't until the screeching of owls that she was shaken out of her reverie. The sudden and noisy arrival of the birds made her swear loudly and duck for cover under the table.

"You can come out now. The vicious beasts have gone." Jade called to her, mocking what she interpreted as a silly fear. "Besides you have mail." Anezka's dark head, peeked over the ledge.

The letter that sat next to her plate seemed odd, compared to the stack of mail that was being sorted through by the twins. Theirs were all written on heavy parchments, with inky cursive script that was obviously made by a quill. Anezka's was in an airmail envelope, and the all caps printing was clearly written with a ball point, reading 'NEZZA SOVA, HOGWARTS, VIA M.W.P.E.X, 7 CHARRING CROSS ROAD, LONDON, UK. The series of stamps and seals on the corner of the mail was unique, in and of itself. The first was an international muggle stamp, after that was an ink stamp of a Great Albatross, the last was a wax seal bearing the crest of the Owl Post Network.

"What's M.W.P.E.X?" Onyx asked, being nosy and reading over Anezka's shoulder.

"Muggle-Wizard Post Exchange. It's how muggle parents get in touch with their magical children." Anezka practically whispered.

"Since when are your parents muggles?" Jade sneered, trying to think why on earth her parents would insist she be nice to a Muggle-born.

Anezka pushed the bench back and stood, grabbing the letter in her hand. "They aren't." With that she walked away, and headed out the main entrance, to wait for the carriages to come around to collect the students bound for Hogsmeade.

After lighting a cigarette, she leaned against the stone archway and unceremoniously ripped open the letter. Written in the same, roller pen ink, and in the same all caps print on a piece of lined notebook paper, Anezka immediately recognized a letter from her mother and her stomach sank instantaneously. "_NEZZA, I ASSUME YOU ARE SPENDING THE HOLIDAY WITH YOUR FATHER, SINCE I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM YOU. AT ALL. FOR MONTHS. YOU KNOW, IT WOULD BE NICE TO HEAR FROM MY OWN DAUGHTER ON OCCASION, WITHOUT HAVING TO GO THROUGH THE HASSLE OF SENDING SNAIL MAIL THROUGH THE __M.W.P.E.X. I REALLY DO WISH YOU WOULD COME SPEND THE HOLIDAYS WITH ME THIS YEAR. IT'S LOVELY HERE IN . . ." _Anezka didn't bother with the rest of the letter, but rather crumpled it and set it on fire with the tip of her cigarette. By the time the other students had started gathering outside, it was reduced to a pile of ashes on the stone stairs that Anezka stood on.

Ignoring the 'buddy' rule, Anezka quickly ducked away from her dorm mates as soon as they arrived at Hogsmeade. After a quick purchase of paper and a self-inking quill from Scrivenshaft's, she quickly snuck across the small town and found herself a table at The Hog's Head, knowing that she'd be the only student there as most preferred the cleanliness and warmth of The Three Broomsticks.

Ordering a tall glass of firewhiskey, no water, and settling in, she pulled her new quill out of it's wrapper and started writing. "_Mum, I'd rather die then spend Christmas with you . . ."_ Thinking of the nasty letter that her Father would receive if she actually said something so mean, yet, so true to her mother, she magicked the ink off the paper and started again. "_Mum, I'd rather NOT be bothered to travel to whatever god-forsaken corner of the world you are in now. And what part of, 'I'm going to school to get away from both of you' implies that I am going to spend the holidays with Dad? As a matter of fact, I've been invited home with some friends for break. Jade and Onyx's Dad works with Grandpa Owin at the ministry. We share a dorm and they didn't want me to be alone for the holiday. And no, you can't contact me there, so don't even ask. They wouldn't be thrilled to have a squib being associated with their family, and I'd like to stay on good terms with these people.I'll write again, sometime, Nezza._"

Rereading over her words she grinned to herself. Without saying anything overtly mean, she knew her letter would have her mother seething with anger for days. Not only was Nezza voicing her obvious disinterest in her mother's jet-setting lifestyle, her preference to spend time with school-mates was sure to get her mother's goat, as she had never had friends at that school and seemed to want Anezka to be as equally disadvantaged socially. She sealed the letter, and quickly jotted a quick note to her father as well, sending him the requested list. Emptying the dregs of her glass in a quick shot, she stood, left a few knuts on the table as a tip, and went back out into the December chill. She left the letters at the post office, glad for the employees that would pass the messages onto the birds. After wandering around the small town aimlessly, avoiding everyone's notice, she found her way to the herb and potion shop. The remaining hours were spent browsing the shelves and perusing the supplies.

By the time the students got back to the Castle, everyone was too excited to eat. In the morning, students would be boarding the train home for two weeks, and those staying would have free run of the castle.

When morning came, luggage was being loaded into carriages and students were saying goodbye to those they were leaving behind. Anezka, to no one's surprise was late, leaving the carriages waiting to depart for the station.

"Where on earth have you been?" Onyx asked as Nezza clambered into the seat next to her.

"I had to stop by the potions classroom." Was her breathless reply. No one asked what took her there, and she offered no further explanation, so everyone went back to discussing plans for their break – the twins eager to see their older brothers, and Gretchen chattering about all the lovely Christmas food her family was going to be serving.

The train ride, once embarked, sped by as quickly. Anezka slept, while Onyx read and Gretchen discoursed on all the school gossip. It wasn't until, a few hours later when they all were getting off the train at King's Cross, that someone finally tried to involve Anezka.

"So, where are you going for Christmas, Anezka? Back to Romania?" Jade asked.

"No. I'm staying with my Mum's family in Wales." Soon, both the Argents and Gretchen had been collected by their families, as had all the other students on the train, leaving Anezka alone in the station. As soon as no one was around to notice, she crossed the barrier, and made her way through the station to the Saint Pancras underground station, hopping on the first train.

A few minutes, as well as train changes, later, Anezka surfaced at Charing Cross Road, and started the long walk to the far end of the street. It was just starting to get dark when she finally arrived. The street was full of muggles going in and out of the surrounding shops, getting some Christmas shopping done, but none were paying enough attention to notice the young dark haired girl slipping into the small building that no one ever realized was there.

The Leaky Cauldron was even more crowded than ever – Wizarding families traveling in to visit extended kin had to stay someplace. Heading over to the bar, she adopted her father's accent with ease. "I have a reservation under Constatinescu." She gave the old family name she had made the reservation with.

"Ah, yes, Miss Constatinescu. We have a room reserved for you." The old, lean barkeep turned and pulled a key from the wall. "Room 33. It's on the top floor. I apologize, it was the last we had, you did book very late."

"It'll be fine." She took the keys and dropped a small bag of galleons, and then started for the stairs, waving away the man's offer to have someone help with her luggage.

The attic room was small, but comfortable, with a warm fire crackling. She kicked off her shoes, and then reached into her bag and pulled Harold out of his nest, setting him on the floor. He quickly started exploring, while she sat down in front of the hearth. "Well Harold, looks like it's going to be just you and me for Christmas."


	25. Prezzies

It was Christmas Eve, and Snape had sequestered himself into his private quarters, once again glad that as a House head, his rooms were a little larger then the rest of the staff's. The furnishing didn't much suit his tastes, all decadent green velvet drapes and ornately carved wood but most of them dated back to a time when Salazar Slytherin himself occupied the space, so there was little he could do to alter it. Sinking as far into the cross frame chair as the the green and silver tapestry cushion would allow, Snape surveyed a small pile of presents sitting by his fire place.

It appealed to his sense of irony that he was, unarguably, the most disliked professor in the school and yet, he was, quite possibly, the professor who received the most amount of gifts during the holiday season. Most were ridiculous items used as an attempt to garner his favour, others were useless trinkets that were given in bulk to the entire staff – usually from Hufflepuffs. Last year the Argent twins had given him a scarf knitted out of baby Yeti wool in the most offensive shade of green, that had to have cost at least seven galleons. Their gifts were always inordinately extravagant and disturbingly tasteless.

Hazarding a guess, he pulled out the gift that was wrapped in the most garish paper, assuming it was from those girls. With little ceremony or care he pulled away the green paper with silver Christmas stars blinking and flashing across the wrapper. In side was a pair of enchanted slippers, no doubt the latest fad from Dervish and Bang's. According to the box they were encased in, they had a warming, massaging and exfoliating enchantment and came in three styles colours. He prayed fervently in that moment they hadn't bought him the Chimera-print option.

He sorted through the rest of the gifts assembled. Draco had wrapped a bottle of fifty year old Ogden's in a simple black tissue – perhaps not the most festive, but certainly suited his mood better. Lucius most definitely procured the bottle for Draco to present to him. A brave first year had baked some biscuits and put them in a cheerful cellophane bag with can-caning reindeer. Most of the others were entirely uninspiring and he had no hope that the last one on the pile would be any different.

Unlike the others, it wasn't wrapped in holiday paper, but in week old editions of the Daily Prophet. The coffee stains and edges that looked like they had been chewed on by a small animal added to the decorative quality. Ridding the package of it's wrappings, Severus couldn't help but take a sharp breath. He couldn't believe what he held in his hands.

Putting the gift – the treasure – down, he snatched the discarded newspaper off the floor, and started reading every corner, searching for the name of the giver. Finding no name was odd, in and of itself, as all the gifts he had ever received, no matter how mediocre, practically had the name of the student who had given them engraved, embossed or embedded on them, so as to make sure they would receive any appreciation being dispensed. And yet, a gift he was truly impressed by seemed to be given by an anonymous donor.

He turned the medium sized cauldron every direction, making sure to handle it with the greatest of care, despite the fact that it would withstand the strongest _Confringo_ curse even Merlin himself could conjure.

The dark grey metal shimmered in the fire light, showing the odd swirled pattern ingrained in the sides of the cauldron, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes away from the smoothed, domed sides. It was made from neither pewter, copper, nor brass and was not made to the standard size scale. Running his hands over the cool metal, he tested for any imperfections or flaws in the forging and found none.

Standing quickly, he crossed to the small bookshelf in the corner of the room, that looked ready to topple under all the titles he had stacked, three deep on each shelf. After quickly looking through the titles, he pulled out the periodical he was looking for, '_Exotic Cauldrons; their purposes, values, and where to find them'_.

Sitting back down and pulling the metal bowl into his lap, he started carefully studying each entry, until he found the image that showed the cauldron in question, on a rotating platform, granting the reader a three-sixty view.

_'The '__Respiraţie şi sânge' Cauldron is a specialty cauldron designed to withstand the highest of temperatures and the most acidic of potions. It is made with refined Wolfram (often refered to as Tungsten in muggle circles) and is then forged in dragon fire, with dragon blood used as a flux. It is forged in the ancient Damascus fashion, causing the unique swirled patterning on the metal, and adding to it's strength. In addition to the superior metal and forging, the enchantments used during it's manufacture make the heat disperse around the cauldron evenly and you will seldom have scorching when using this peice of equipment. _

_ Summary:  
Name; Respiraţie şi sânge Highest Temperature; 4,000 degrees Celsius _

_Rarity; absurdly rare Average cost; G189, S8, K1_

_Orgin; Bufniţă Tabăra Dragon Colony, Romania Manufactured by; Constatinescu-Sova_

Snape felt his stomach lurch. He kept telling himself that the name had to be a coincidence, that such a girl could have nothing to do with such a prestigeous metal smith. Not able to leave the matter drop, he flipped to the back of '_Exotic Cauldrons'_, to the merchant index. The listing for Constantinescu-Sova was close to the top, and gave him little more information. The point of contact for sales was Alexandru Sova and that the Sova family had been forging and supplying quality Dragon related accoutrement since 1629. Skimming over the superfluous 'cruelty-free' statement about their Dragon Colony, Snape only had eyes for the family crest located at the bottom of the advertisement that matched the one embossed on the bottom of the pot. He knew he had seen it somewhere before, and that he could not pull it's original location from his detailed memories irked him.

Standing, he reached for the newsprint at his feet, and crumpling it in his first he flung it into the fire, and lost himself a moment, watching the paper catch alight and shrivel up in the flames.

Gingerly, he placed the cauldron on the mantle, the flickering from the hearth, casting shadowed light onto it's metallic curves. As he stared at it from a distance, he was stuck by the outstanding quality of the gift – not of the item itself, but as something that he could actually use.

Pausing himself, he questioned whether he would ever use it. Really, he should return it to whence it came as such an ornate gift could not be justified and would be considered nothing more then bribery. But the question of who gave it was one he chose not to pursue, as the obvious answer was displeasing. Perhaps she had sold it, a family heirloom, to some other student for enough coins to buy a drink at Hogsmeade. Perhaps, she had not sold it at all, but someone had purchased it from overseas – but that brought up the question of who? Dumbledore usually gave him a Christmas present but it was usually something even more ridiculous then the tat the students left. Furthermore, the Headmaster always left his gifts under the tree in the staff lounge, and he had found this one left in the potions classroom.

None of this made as much sense as the simple fact that she had given this piece of cauldron artwork to him, herself. The fact that he saw no motive or benefit in her actions didn't belie that obvious answer, as much as he wanted it to.

He knew he should sleep. Having been up late the night before, and knowing that he had to wake in the early morning for the last shift of hall patrol, he realized that rest was going to be a commodity, but he could not silence his thoughts. Pulling down the candelabra that was mounted on the gray stone wall to the left of the fireplace making a small, cave-like door opened on the far wall past the large canopy bed. Snape quickly exited through it, and started up the winding stone stairs through the private passage way that lead directly to his office.

Upon gaining entry to his study, he strode across the room to where large, black oak filing cabinets towered in the far corner. "_Accio_ student file for Sova, Anezka N." a drawer slid open smoothly and a large manilla file fluttered out of it's drawer.

Snatching it from the air, Snape sat down at his desk and opened up the document. Unfortunately for him, all entries in student files went in reverse order and it took a solid half hour of time to sort through all the detentions and loss of points listed until he came across what he was looking for. The very first page of the packet – her original application to transfer to over the details that were not important, he picked two facts from the page in front of him. The first, that her Father's name was not Alexandru but Casmir Sova, neither confirming or refuting anything. Standing out more, however, was a statement that removed any doubt he had on the gift's origin. Written, clear as day was her last official residence, _Bufniţă Tabăra, Romania_. Now if he could just understand WHY she had left him something she had to know was of value, and that no doubt given her potions skills, she would like to keep for herself.

Recollection suddenly dawned on him where he had seen the crest of the Constatinescu-Sovafamily that was stamped on the bottom of the cauldron. It had been the first night of the year, in the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Many miles away, in London, in a small room on the top floor of the Leaky Cauldron, Anezka sat cross-legged in front of the hearth, rubbing unconsciously at the large, black Dragon Shield tattoo that adorned her upper arm. A church bell chimed twelve times in the distance, signaling the start of the Holy day, breaking her from her reverie. "Merry Christmas Harold! NOW you can open your stocking." She pulled a small ratty sock down from where it was pinned on the mantle.

The small hedgehog grunted in pleasure and quickly darted back and forth in a small circle, causing the bell on a green satin ribbon that was tied around his belly to jingle merrily. As soon as Anezka had dropped the stocking on the floor, the critter pounced on it, and started pulling the various treats and toys from it's confines.

As her pet entertained himself with the bag of candied mealworms, she turned to where a small stick-like pine tree was sticking out of an old fashioned tin pail, held upright in it's base with dirt and decorated with shiny gift wrap ribbon that Anezka had purchased at the nickle-and-dime store around the corner in muggle-side. The loopy bows she had tied them into, along with a frosting charm, that had taken her twenty minutes to conjure, making glistening icicles appear on the ends of the needles, made an all-together pretty, if not terribly fancy Christmas twig. Sitting beneath it was a small stack of presents.

Perhaps it was silly, but she had wrapped all the boxes herself, despite the fact that she had just purchased them all in the last few days in Diagon Alley. Whereas most would be saddened by this, she had been wrapping her own presents since she was seven as her Mother never had time and Dad would always forget. She smiled to think of the odd tradition they had made – just her and him, Christmas eve, wrapping presents and drinking cocoa, making sure the the few presents were wrapped before she got home from work and Dad got in trouble for not having it done.

"To Nezza, from Harold" She picked up a package, "Oh, Harold, you shouldn't have." Pulling away the paper she had only taped around the box a few hours previously revealed a small jewelry box that held a set of earrings with emerald teadrops hanging from a cluster of diamonds – none of them were real of course, just glass and other things enchanted to look real. To the naked eye your couldn't tell the difference and had they been authentic jewels, Anezka would never have purchased them at that vendor stall in the Alley the day before, no matter how excited Harold had gotten when he saw the box. She liked indulging the Hedgehog's whims, and admittedly, he had good taste, but she would never spend more then the five galleons she did on the set. "No, really, you shouldn't have. I don't wear jewelry." The small creature looked up from his empty toilet paper roll that he was playing with and grunted at her.

She opened the few other presents that sat waiting, all wrapped in various sheets from The Daily Prophet. There was a book she had been wanting for a while, a new mortar and pestle set that had a higher capacity then the small set that she already had at school, some new pairs of socks and enough cigarette papers to last for the rest of the year. They weren't exciting but she was certainly glad for them. Summoning a few pillows and the embroidered duvet off the antique bed she curled up on the floor in front of the roaring fire, lighting a smoke and opened up to the first page of her new book. If she read through the day, she could have the book finished quickly and she could think of no better way to spend the day. As she flipped through the first chapter, the thought couldn't help but cross her mind on what her professor would do with the cauldron she left him. With a shrug she continued reading, thinking that he'd most likely either try to return it, or act as if he never was given it, at least until he could suss out who gave it and why. Always suspicious, that man was. She couldn't help but appreciate that quality. Outside, snow flurries began to fall.


	26. Valentine

If Anezka had been expecting a large reaction to her leaving of a gift, she would have been disappointed. As was, after returning from her two week holiday being holed up at the Leaky Cauldron, she could hardly tell if Snape had eve sussed out who had left the cauldron for him. She knew he was clever enough, but he made no sign one way or the other. Instead, he seemed to be trying his best to ignore her. All of January past and she seemed incapable of angering him – not by being late to class, or being barefoot, or talking endlessly. Not that those were the only reasons she did such things, but his reactions were always priceless to her.

February dawned and sped by as quickly as January had and term was in full swing. The first major tests were coming up and the entire 6th year Slytherin dorm was cramming.

"What an absolutely wretched way to waste Valentines day!" Jade whined as she sat cross-legged on her bed in the dormitory, notes and textbooks spread out before her. "I mean, just because Professor Snape is a miserable, unloved git doesn't mean he should go around pissing on other people's happiness."

"It's just an exam, J," Onyx interceded, as equally occupied with studying. "It's not like it's going to be the whole day."

"But potions is our last class, so I will be worried about it ALL day, and then I am going to be so tired from studying tonight, that tomorrow evening is going to be completely dull." Jade's look darkened when she heard Anezka chuckle quietly from where she sat on the floor, next to the fireplace. "What's so funny?"

"You mean other than how shallow you sound?" Jade started to become offended, but Anezka waved her off. "Maybe it's the fact that you are killing yourselves over a test that's an easy A."

With a scoff, Jade dropped her notes into her lap. "Just because you are some kind of idiot savant when it comes to potions, doesn't make you some kind of authority on the difficulty of _all_ exams." She gave her room mate a critical once-over. "Besides which, you might have a different opinion if you actually had a date for Valentines day. As is, I don't think even Filch would find you attractive. Tell me, do you even know how to tie your shoes? Or brush your hair?" Her twin gasped in shock, not because she hadn't thought such mean thoughts to herself, or in private with her sister, but because she would never dare say them aloud to someone.

"Oh, I didn't realize you did – don't you just pay people to do it for you?" Neither Argent girl thought that their family's money would ever be able to used as an insult, but both smarted at Anezka's casual retort. Standing, Anezka headed towards the exit.

"Anezka, it's almost curfew . . ." Onyx tried calling after her, but was roundly ignored.

Over the weeks and months, Anezka had formed a path she wandered late at night when she couldn't sleep. It started in the dungeon levels, wound up through the classroom levels and ended at the roof. She had even left an empty bottle next to the window so she had a place to collect the butts of her smokes. But today was different. It had snowed earlier in the day and the roof was going to be cold and covered in sludgy snow. She deviated from the normal path and ended up finding herself in the Astronomy Tower. There were no classes that night, so she had the whole observatory to herself. Grateful for the warming charms that kept the open air ramparts from being completely exposed to the elements she lit up, taking a long, first drag on the cigarette.

She wanted to be introspective, to sit and ponder why she never seemed to be able to get along with people, but she couldn't even be bothered to care that much. She could filter through all the clichés, about how she wasn't here to be liked, or they don't understand her or that sticks and stones may break your bones, and occasionally, she even pretended some of them consoled her. Usually, she just distracted herself with new ideas for potions, or singing old Celestina Warbeck songs in her head.

She was halfway though a verse in her head when she felt a strong hand enclose her shoulder in a vice like grip.

* * *

The last four days had worn Severus down to the core. He ached all over and the weekend had passed far too quickly with little rest. In just the last week, Black had broken in yet again, and tore up the Gryffindor dorms, but yet Potter had snuck out of the castle over the weekend, fool that he was, and as if this wasn't all enough, the full moon was due in a week. He had spent so many hours in with the headmaster, trying to get him to see reason – in regards to having a known werewolf and possible traitor on staff, in regards to Dementors, in regards to Black, in regards to Dumbledore pretending Potter's actions weren't headstrong and reckless.

He wandered the castle, too weary to even sleep. After years of pacing, He had every corridor, path and floor measured out in footsteps and silently counted as he walked. Never taking the same path twice, for fear that a student would discern it, and use it to sneak around without him finding them, he chose to head across the main entry hall and towards the Astronomy Tower. Perchance the chilled bite in the late winter air would clear his mind.

As he reached the last step on the spiral staircase and pulled open the heavy oaken door, his eyes fell upon one more thing that he was too weary to fight, and heard a quiet humming. With stern authority, he clamped onto the student's shoulder, feeling her tense in surprise for a moment, but she relaxed quickly, after looking up to see who stood behind her. "Out past curfew again, Miss Sova? You seem to enjoy having punishment dealt to you." He said, but the words did not have the acid edge his ripostes usually held.

Without even looking at him, she shrugged a little. "Well, you seem to like dealing out punishment, so I think we are a perfectly matched set of fucked up individuals."

He sighed heavily. "Must every sentence out of your mouth contain a profanity?"

"No." She paused heavily. "Some of them have two." She couldn't help but chuckle at herself, if ever so quietly. She reached to relight her cigarette, that had smouldered out in the wind. "Want a smoke?" She said offering a small, rolled up paper with a twisted end.

Snape shook his head to decline the offer. "Just what are in those abominable things anyway?"

She took a drag then held the small item up for inspection. "Little bit of this, little bit of that. It's mainly dried damiana root and water hyssop leaves, though."

"The damiana acts to ease anxiety and boost energy and the brahmi," he paused, calling the hyssop by it's more traditional name, "increases mental clarity but also acts as a tranquillizer. An interesting combination." Snape found himself intrigued by such an uncommon adaptation of ingredients as he verbalized the most common effects of the them.

"Calms me down but wakes me up and gets me thinking clearer. Not as toxic as tobacco and not as illegal as marijuana. Which, incidentally, while smoking I found completely ineffective and not all that exciting." She rolled her eyes, then silenced herself.

It was surprising that she didn't speak more. Severus had come to expect long and confusing rambles from her that covered five or six subjects of conversation or storytelling before weaving its way back to the original topic. He found himself oddly put out that she did not go on this way, as the tangent would give him something to berate her for. "Why are you out past curfew, and in the Astronomy Tower?" He changed the subject, mustering as much sternness as his fatigue would allow.

"Couldn't sleep, my room mates are bitches, and the roof I usually sit on is covered in snow. Will that do for explanation?" She continued to look out into the distance, her back to him.

"I'd say not." Was his terse reply.

"Why not? It answered all your questions, didn't it."

"One does not suddenly receive carte blanche to break rules just because one's classmates are difficult."

She smiled wickedly and turned to look at him. "So you admit they are the most aggravating slags this side of Hadrian's Wall, then?"

He chose not to answer directly. In all honesty, on slow days, when he had time to notice, he had to admit, the Argent girls grated on his nerves. "That still doesn't explain why you are out here. There are common rooms."

She didn't vocalize a response right away, but held up the tail end of her cigarette. "Believe it or not, I try not to be an inconsiderate bitch all the time. I am pretty sure the common rooms are supposed to be a smoke free environment." She took the final puff, then flicked the end over the ramparts.

"Most people would take that as incentive to NOT smoke." He stated the obvious, wondering quickly why he was actually engaging her in this repartee, but as soon as the thought struck him, conversation between them fell silent.

The still midnight air hung around them, and the only thing breaking the absolute silence was the distant hooting of an owl. Finally, the young girl spoke, only she didn't sound so young. "Sometimes, you just have to do things to stay sane. No matter how stupid, or dangerous or silly they are. Just that one thing that will drag you back from the point self-destruction. That one thing that gives you clarity." There was an odd sagacity to her words, but the spell was quickly broken as she stood up, and wiped the dust from the bottoms of her day-glow blue flannel pyjama pants that were adorned with skiing moose. "Smoking is mine, but I don't know what yours is – maybe being a hard-ass disciplinarian prick who assigns too much homework is your coping mechanism?" She smirked at him, once again, unsettling his peace of mind by her complete fearlessness in looking him directly in the eye. After staring at him for a minute, she brushed past him and made her way to the door.

"Why do you smoke it?" He didn't know why he asked, but then words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and Anezka turned to look at him again.

"Duh! It takes at least forty-five minutes to metabolize and feel the full effect of anything taken orally, but smoking gets whatever it is into your system in under two minutes." She turned back around and opened the door. "Sweet Dreams, Snapeykins."

And with that she was gone, and behind her she left Severus in a wake of befuddlement, amusement, exhaustion and ire, but no longer was he weary. .


	27. Revenge

The entire dorm had been sound asleep by the time Anezka returned, so she silently burrowed under the mountain of pillows, blankets and laundry that had accumulated on top of her bed, and after a few hours of tossing and turning, finally fell asleep.

Undisturbed by all the early morning clamour of three girls readying for the day, she slept straight through until a strange noise that was uncommon in that particular dorm, was heard - crying. And not just a soft sniffle, or even an elegant weeping, but a chest heaving, air gulping, snot**-**filled sob. Peaking out from under the pillow fortress, Anezka was shocked when she saw that Jade, sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, next to her bed, was the source of the noise.

"Oh no, who died and didn't leave money to you?" was Anezka's entirely unsympathetic inquiry.

Jade was startled enough to be able to catch her breath for a moment. "When did you get back? We all thought you were passed out in a ditch somewhere, you never came back last night."

"Wait, am I not actually here?" She grabbed at her own shoulders and face, as if testing to see that she was in complete corporeal form. "So this is all just a figment of my imagination? I must be tripping on something pretty good then..."

"Merlin's beard, you are such a freak." Jade retorted angrily, then she broke down into uncontrollable tears once more.

Pushing away more blankets and sitting upright, Anezka sighed heavily. "Look, either tell me what's wrong, or shut the hell up so I can go back to sleep."

"I ... I..." Jade hiccuped inelegantly and rubbed her dripping nose, "Caaaaan't" she finished with a wail.

With a roll of her eyes, Anezka crawled off the bed and started rummaging in her trunk, once again opening up the false panel. Pulling out a small glass tube filled with a cheerfully yellow liquid, she crouched down in front of the Argent girl and proffered the potion. "Calming draught. Normally I charge a galleon for it, but I will give it to you for thirteen sickles so you stop making that god awful noise." Jade looked at her, as if questioning her motives. "This way, you don't have to go to Pomfrey for some and let the whole school know that you're crying like a puppy in a hot car."

Still unable to speak clearly, Jade simply snatched the vial and downed it quickly. It took a minute to take effect, and as she slowly started calming down, she stood and started pacing, blowing her nose and drying her tears. "So, I've been dating Dominick Smythe-Wessby, from seventh year, since before Christmas, right? I mean, we were obviously well suited for each other. His family is well connected and has been pure blood for at least the last ten generations. . ."

"Sounds like a real love match." Anezka couldn't help the sneer on her face.

"Of course I loved him! He was gorgeous and rich!" Jade insisted, then her face fell, and if it hadn't been for the magical liquid running through her veins, she would have started crying again. "He dumped me! ME! On Valentine's Day! FOR GRETCHEN!" she shrieked angrily. "He bribed a firstie with answers to their upcoming exam to come tell me this morning. In the common room, in front of everyone. He didn't even have the decency to tell me himself! And then, that formally fat cow was practically sitting on his lap at breakfast, spoon feeding him his porridge. Smug bitch. I have never been so humiliated!"

Anezka watched her housemate and pondered for a moment. "Well, like my Grandma Valerica always said, _Nu vă supăraţi, să se răzbune _."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you will see. You better get to class. People will get suspicious if we both skive off from Charms." Anezka said with an authoritative air, and surprisingly, Jade complied.

Anezka wasn't seen again until lunch time, where she kept a low profile, using Onyx as a barrier, so no one at the head table could see her and reprimand her for her absence from all of her morning classes. Jade remained very silent, obviously pretending that their morning interchange had never happened. She held her head high, nose in the air, but she still had a sullen look on her face that turned slightly nauseous every time she looked down to the far end of the table and saw Gretchen nuzzling up against the dark haired charmer.

Gretchen and Dominick were a perfect picture of contentment and canoodling until, suddenly, he bolted up, sending Gretchen flying to the ground. He had a panicked look on his face as he fled from the hall. She looked miffed but continued to wolf down her chef's salad.

"I wonder what that was about?" Jade queried aloud.

Anezka just grinned. "You can thank me later, once you've seen the full effect."

The rest of the school day passed, and Smythe-Wessby was not seen again. Rumor had it, that after three class blocks in the prefects bathroom, he had been taken to the hospital wing. According to those in the know, Madam Pomfrey still hadn't been able to get his explosive diarrhea to stop.

Anezka was just finishing up a sale in a dark corner of the common room, when the Argent twins approached her. "Now don't take any more then one ounce. This is called 'Batavi Virtus' and is very potent. You want enough bravery to ask out a fifth year, not enough to turn Gryffindor." The first year girl that had been conversing with Anezka took the small glass reverentially and hurried off. As soon as she was gone, she laughed to herself. "Dutch courage... Nothing more than a shot of gin. So gullible. Now, what can I do for you two roomies?"

"What on earth did you give Dominick?" Jade accused harshly, forgetting for a moment that she no longer liked the boy.

Anezka grinned a slow, sly grin. "_I_didn't give him anything. However, it seems to me that someone gave him something resembling a tincture of Malevolent Lobelia. A little bit sprinkled subtlety into his lunch by a seventh year that happens to owe a certain potions distributor a small fortune in gold. Not having to pay that off in return for dumping that onto his plate and some Calorie Multiplying potion into Gretchen's – it's a pretty great deal."

"Calorie Multiplying potion?" Jade seemed puzzled by this.

"No matter how little she eats, even if she just drinks water, she will gain weight. The only way she won't pork up is if she eats a pudding with every meal." Both Jade and Onyx's faces were the perfect pictures of shock and awe. "That's called irony, in case you were wondering. . . . cause she's always dieting and vain and all . . . "

Onyx was the first to speak. "That's . . . AWFUL!"

"That's . . . AWESOME!" Jade followed quickly a pleased and vindictive look on her face, but then held herself. "Why would you do that?" She tried to hold the confusion from her voice, but the question came out far more unsure then she would have cared for.

"Well . . . he dumped you." Anezka said, Jade's question seeming to not make sense to her.

"Yes, and?"

"Just a bit of revenge." Anezka shrugged this time, clearly becoming more and more befuddled as the conversation continued. "That's what friends do."

Now it was Jade who looked completely confounded. "But . . . we aren't . . . friends." She said her words carefully, as if she was trying to communicate with someone who didn't speak the same language.

"We aren't?" Going from confusion to pure shock, Anezka scratched her head.

"No!" Jade half laughed. "We fight all the time, make fun of each other, have nothing in common and don't even really like each other."

It was a solid sixty seconds of silence until Anezka spoke again. "Isn't that what friends do?"

"Well . . . " It was Jade's turn for silence. "I suppose it is, rather." She looked at her toes for a moment, an action that was very uncommon for any Argent. "So, thank you, I guess."

"Yeah, thanks." Onyx finally chimed in. "I couldn't have planned a better revenge myself."

"No worries. Now," She looked at Jade, "don't you owe me thirteen sickles from this morning."

Jade just laughed and reached into her book bag to retrieve the money.


	28. Confession

"Somehow, I doubt that you have these such meetings with Professor McGonagall." Severus said upon reaching Dumbledore's office shortly after dinner, that Valentine's night. The Headmaster sat behind his oaken desk, two crystal glasses filled with an aromatic brandy. A hard rain pelted against the leaded glass of the window, and the howling wind echoed through the stone tower.

"Of course not, my boy." Dumbledore chuckled, handing him the glass. "She and I usually converse over tea and scones on rainy afternoons. I reserve the dark and stormy nights just for you. They seem to suit you the best."

The humor was lost on Snape as he took the glass and sipped on the brandy after settling himself in his usual seat. "One would think that she would be in need of the stronger drink, as she has to deal with that pack of arrogant and headstrong terrors."

"Well, as Minerva herself tends to be rather stubborn and proud, I imagine that she manages well enough without strong libations. But, I did not call you here to discuss the finer points of the general Gryffindor psyche. It was brought to my attention today that one of your Sixth years was missing from all of her pre-luncheon classes."

Severus groaned inwardly but held his composure admirably, surprising even himself. "I shan't bother asking who. When the other professors were expressing their . .. concerns about her absence did it ever occur to them that she could have been ill, or some other reasonable cause detained her from class?" He felt insane for even suggesting it, knowing that she had most likely skivved of class for no better reason then oversleeping after her late night or simply because she wanted to. However, she was one of his students, and the habit of trying to protect his House from penalization that he had formed over years couldn't be broken in one moment.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore also found Snape's arguing for his student bizarre. "Really Severus? Are you defending the girl? That seems uncharacteristic."

"I am simply pointing out that had it been any of the other houses, you would have had a squadron of house-elves scouring the castle to make sure that they hadn't passed out en route to class from Scrofungulus, or the like." Snape quickly tried to explain away the temporary lapse in his dislike of the student in question.

Ignoring the well-known accusation of bias, Dumbledore pressed on, absent-mindedly swirling the brandy in his glass."I would have been the first to visit Miss Sova in the hospital wing – I always find her conversation quite amusing – however, she never admitted herself. No member of staff saw her all morning and she made no complaints to the infirmary. Oddly enough, your seventh year Prefect did turn up in Madam Pomfrey's care, late this afternoon, but I have no reason to suspect that the two are related. Luckily, Poppy has finally stopped the poor boy's bowel irritation and managed to rehydrate him. Seems someone gave him a tincture of Malevolent Lobelia, " Dumbledore's words trailed off and he allowed himself a shudder.

"If you would please come to the point, Headmaster. I hardly see how one student's absence and an other's misfortune in potion consumption necessitates a meeting. Most likely, he procured an ill-brewed potion for some malady or an other from an inept student and is now suffering the consequences. He will quickly learn not to trust such underhanded dealings after this. As for Sova, just assign her detentions for her missed classes and be done with it."

Dumbledore's blue gaze bore into Severus from over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "I am beginning to be concerned about young Anezka. I fear she is not settling in." He said this, as if her absence from class was evidence, but Snape just saw it as another nonsensical change of subject.

"Then expel her and be done with it."

The headmaster suppressed a chuckle. "You cannot expel a student for skipping three classes."

"However, theft of potion ingredients and continuous curfew infractions certainly seem justifiable cause."

"Are you still seething about that incident back in November or are there other such activities I should be concerned about?" Dumbledore asked intently.

Snape considered his words for a full moment, disguising his hesitation by taking a sip of the drink. "Nothing else has gone missing from my stores, that I am aware of." He didn't know why he did not bring up the exchange they had on the the tower just the previous night. He still didn't fully comprehend why he hadn't reprimanded her more himself at the time for her curfew breaking.

If Albus noticed the irresolute nature of his companion's response, he didn't let on. "You must have patience with the girl, Severus. If you took the time to learn more about her upbringing, you'd understand that she doesn't do thing such as theft or breaking curfew just for the sake of being mischievous." This earned him a sceptical look. "To be sure. As a child, she was often unattended by her parents, often to the point where she was forced to fend for herself when it came to things such as food and other necessities and seldom had anyone telling her when and where she had to be. So, while now, in her adolescent mind, she understands that taking things that aren't hers is wrong, it is still the first thing she gravitates towards when she finds herself in need. Things such as that have affected her behaviour in many ways."

Such absurd and nonsensical talk discomforted Snape, so he quickly saw to to a change in subject. "Do you wish me to give her detention, or not, Headmaster?" He questioned tersely.

Dumbledore sighed and admitted defeat. "As you see fit Professor, but please, certainly address the absence issue with the student."

Snape nodded and stood. "Of course, Headmaster." And with that he stalked away. He didn't stop or even think until he reached the Slytherin common rooms. It was well before curfew and most of the students were scattered around the room, most at least pretending to study, except for the three girls in the corner.

"I heard that it was so bad that they had to close the prefect's bathroom for a few hours while Filch unblocked the toilets!" Two of the girls laughed merrily, as if discussing . . . well, whatever it would be that two girls would laugh about – Snape preferred ignorance on such subjects. The third sat quietly, smirking ever so slightly, and didn't contribute much to the conversation, but if he was as talented at reading expressions as he thought himself to be, her expression shouted a certain smugness.

That look triggered something in his mind – a recollection of a conversation had at the start of term, concerning Anezka's eligibility for certain classes. Or, rather, why she was not eligible for certain classes. Now sure of his course of action, he approached the girls. "Good evening, ladies."

"Oh, hello Professor." The blonde girl, the one seemingly so pleased with the gossip regarding Smythe-Wessby, smiled cloyingly at him. "Has there been any more news from the hospital regarding Dominick? We've all been terribly concerned about him." She said, almost convincingly, but her sister had to hide a snicker behind a pretend cough.

"You needn't loose sleep over it. Madam Pomfrey said he should be well in time for classes tomorrow. However, I need to speak to Miss Sova."

The girl sat up a bit, but didn't make a move to stand. "Well then, speak on!" She chuckled a bit.

"Over there." He said barbarously then walked to a dim corner a few feet away.

"What, that dark and secluded corner over there?" She called after him as she stood. "Just me and you? How romantic!" With a feigned swoon she sashayed dramatically across to where he waited for her.

"You certainly seem to be amused by bowel irregularity." His accusation was both abrupt yet vague, so as to trap her if she understood what he was referring to.

She snorted indelicately. "You try growing up with twelve male cousins and see if you don't think toilet jokes aren't funny. But why the completely random statement? What's it to you if I find poo hysterical? Is there some kind of law against it?"

"There is if you are poisoning other students for your own entertainment." She just stared at him blankly. "I will pretend I do not already know the answer and ask if you know what affect Malevolent Lobelia will have on the human gastrointestinal system." For once she didn't seem to have a snide comeback at hand and he did not feel like giving her the opportunity to come up with one. "I seem to recall you, by your own admission, being banned from a class at your last school for lacing a teacher's tea with a laxative. I find it then to be very coincidental that one of your classmates has been afflicted with such a similar predicament."

"Eh," She shrugged. "Shit happens." Her face remained serious for all of a second, but then collapsed into a crooked smile and fit of giggles. "Shit happens . . . oh, that was such a bad pun"

"If you are finished laughing at your own idiotic jests, I am still waiting for an explanation."

She cleared her throat to end her laughter. "What's there to explain? My not being in classes this morning, had NOTHING at all to do with what happened to that tripe, Smythe-Wessby."

"I had not mentioned anything about your morning absences." Snape sounded out his words with a chilled tone, taking a grim satisfaction in catching her in her slip up.

"Bollocks!" She winced a little and looked away. "Well, I am just assuming that's what you were on about." She scrambled to cover herself.

"I fear you believe me to be either far more foolish, or far more gullible then I am. I advise you to dispel that notion immediately. Now, you will tell me where you were this morning and if you had anything to do with Smythe-Wessby's illness and you will tell me this instant."

Anezka's quirked eyebrow did nothing to temper Severus's already disgruntled mood. "Or else, what?" It wasn't a challenge. Her tone sounded different to her normal combative attitude. She asked as if she was asking the price of a magic carpet and weighing the costs versus characteristics.

Knowing that any empty threats of expulsion would be ineffective, Snape decided to take a different tactic. "Or else, I send a concerned letter to your Grandfather Myriddan about your nearly lethal poisoning of a fellow student. Whether you are proved to be guilty or not, having such a scandal disturb his hectic life at the Ministry will be sure to provoke action."

She paled but didn't take her steel glare away from him. "But if I confess to it, which I am neither confirming or denying you understand, you'd do the same, wouldn't you?"

It was Snape's turn to pause for thought. "No. I too do not wish to deal with the repercussions of contacting your family. But I have far less to lose then you do."

The words she spoke next were the clearest, and most carefully phrased that Snape had ever heard her utter. "Just what do you think I have to loose?"

"Whatever it is spoiled grandchildren have to loose when they have angered their families. I imagine the repercussions he'd feel socially would be enough to push him to be severe."

Anezka's tensed jaw seemed to relax, but she still spoke in a stilted tone. "And what do you have to lose?"

Severus couldn't contain his eye roll. "I fall out of good graces with a high ranking official of the Ministry. Nothing that I haven't dealt with before, no matter how inconvenient. It will bear no credence on my position in any long term sense."

"And what makes you think that pissing with you isn't worth being grounded for a few weeks after term ends? I mean, oh, no - I won't be able to attend another one of Grandmama's tea parties, what ever will I do." She simpered comically, and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.

Ignoring her theatrics, Snape decided to call what he was positive was a bluff. "Because you flinched at the mere mention of your Grandfather being involved. If he holds no power over you, why does the potential of him hearing of this disturb you?" Her hand dropped suddenly, and her stare went back to cold and hard, rather then with the mocking twinkle that had danced in her eyes for her last statement. "You will tell me now!"

"Alright," She sighed and shrugged. "I was in the second largest unused dungeon all morning. I was brewing a potion, that _might_ have involved some Malevolent Lobelia. But what happened after it left my hands, I in no way claim responsibility for."

"To whom did you give it?"

"Damned if I remember his name. Seventh year, looks like his head is a quaffle. He's a few straws short of a broomstick if you ask me."

"Flint?" The boy was repeating Seventh year and suited the description aptly. "What did he want it for?" Snape continued to interrogate.

Her dark brow shot up. "I tend not to ask questions on things like this."

"So he paid you for this?"

Her short, cawing laugh startled him. "No! He's never paid me a knut." She spoke and the words rang with the most honesty of anything she had said so far. Strangely, that didn't comfort him much.

"Then why did you give it to him?" Snape's patience was being ripped to shreds, but he knew his time for getting answers out of her was short and if he snapped now, she'd revert to glib and vague responses.

"Call it a personal favour?" She suggested.

"I don't want to 'call' it anything. I want to know."

The smirk that acted as her shield covered her face again. "Well, that's all I can give you. So, see you in detention tomorrow night? I'm getting, what, like four for this? Five?"

"Six." He barked. "And you will be serving them with Mister Filch. And fifty points from your house, for careless endangering others."

The look she shot him was one that was common for most teenagers, and often was accompanied by the colloquial phrase 'duh'. "Um, why do you keep taking points from me? I'm in your House, and I think you care more then I do." After she spoke her peace, she turned away and returned to where she was sitting before, tripping over her shoe laces on the way.

"Dammit!" Snape hissed to himself, realizing that the points he just deducted put Slytherin in last place – again.

As he swooped out of the room, he passed the chess board, and seeing no one paying attention, he called out a new attack, his bishop eliminating his opponent's castle. He afforded himself one glance over his shoulder before passing through the portal, to see Anezka surrounded once again by Jade and Onyx Argent, the sound of their laughter chasing after him.


	29. Bargains

"I say, Snape! Have you heard the gossip about that Smythe-Wessby lad?" Sir Nicholas floated along the corridor behind Snape as he stormed his way between the common room and his private chambers.

"Yes, astoundingly, I am occasionally informed of when students are admitted to Madam Pomfrey's care." Nearly Headless Nick exasperated him at the best of times, but the Gryffindor ghost was the last thing that Snape wanted to deal with.

"Oh no, not that trivial thing! I hear he is well and ready to return to class tomorrow. No, I meant about his jilting of Miss J. Argent!"

"Your definition of trivial seems to be contradictory to the rest of the world's."

The ghost scoffed. "I think we should all take an active interest in the romantic shenanigans of youth. Wars have been fought over such things you know."

"I think Jade Argent is far more occupied with the latest issue of Witch Wear Weekly then she is with starting a feud because her latest beau has parted company with her." The girl had courted most of the current seventh year Slytherin boys, as well as a good portion of the class that had matriculated out the year before.

"Don't underestimate scorned women. To be so belittled and made a mockery of, on Valentine's Day of all days . . .Mark my words, revenge will be had!" With that, Sir Nicholas glided away, his nose in the air, as if Snape's unenthusiastic reception was the gravest of insults.

Snape froze mid-stride, the image of Sova sitting cheerfully with the Argent twins and the self-satisfied smirk playing in a short loop in his mind's eye. Rather, Jade and Onyx sitting with Anezka, and looking pleased about the company, was what gave him pause. The entire year they had affected expressions of annoyance, displeasure and distaste whenever within three feet of the girl. "Perhaps it already has."

He continued his walk, pondering over the thought. He believed it when Anezka had implicated Marcus Flint in the events of the day. However, he also didn't put it beyond her to involve him as a scapegoat.

What bothered him was that he still couldn't ascertain a motive. _"He hurt her friend"_ The feminine voice of his pshyce echoed.

"Don't be absurd!" He growled aloud in the silence of the halls. "Aside from the fact that the three have barely been able to contain their mutual loathing, no Slytherin would do such a rash, poorly thought out act."

_"And no Gryffindor would jinx a girl and let one of her housemates take the fall for it." _

And it all fell into place, as he reached his quarters. It dawned on him, that not that many Valentine's days ago, while he was still in school, he had witnessed a similar series of events.

It had been the winter of his fifth year, before taking his OWLS, before the voice he heard in his quiet moments stopped speaking to him in reality.

Lily had been livid during the fifth year's break period, ranting and raving about how some horrid girl in her dorm had agreed to be Peter Pettigrew's valentine's date only to prank him. Irritated by her lack of interest in what he was saying, the young Snape had told her just to jinx the other girl and be done with it. Far from convincing her to forget her troubles and pay more attention to him, a look of challenge and determination crossed the girl's pretty, freckled face and she stood and stormed off without a word.

Later that night, the gossip was circulating around the school that the same girl that Lily was complaining about earlier, had been the victim of a combination of a _levicorpus _and a _bat-bogey_ hex. Potter had been blamed and was serving detention for it, but Snape knew better. Partially, because he had personally taught the first hex to her, shortly after he perfected it the year before, but also because he found Lily hiding in a corridor, half crying, half laughing, waiting so she could tell him what she had done. She hadn't told anyone else, and Snape was convinced that she took the secret to her grave, not even telling that prat she had married. She had been too ashamed of what she had done, not only for its ferocity, but for how much she enjoyed doing it. When he questioned her motives, as he hadn't thought that she cared that much for Pettigrew, she just shrugged and replied that no one deserved to be treated as her victim had treated Peter. At the time, Snape had just laughed and called her a typical Gryffindor but now he wondered at a Slytherin doing just about the exact same thing.

He was sure that Anezka's actions didn't spring from the sort of kindness that had compelled Lily to action, that there had to have been some sort of benefit for her, but he wasn't entirely convinced that was a bad thing. If a person was to do something so rash and sentimental, then at least have something to gain from it as well . . .

Shaking himself sternly, he collapsed on his bed, unable to believe that he had just given one of his students more credit for a deed then the woman who's memory he lived his life around. Sova was nothing like Lily had been . . .but no matter how hard he tried to summon Lily's tear filled eyes from that night so long ago, a pair of mocking grey ones took their place.

* * *

As Anezka lay abed, staring at her canaopy and making herself dizzy by following the intricately curved metal swirls of the frame, all she could think is 'why'. She knew why she had chosen to inflict such suffering on Smythe-Wessby. Not only had he pulled a completely prickish move, she had found that making people feel obliged to her was a great way to make friends. And considering the fact that she seemed to have been born without the ability to just _talk_ to people and make friends, she had to take whatever course was offered to her. As much as the Argent girls were snobby, they were clever enough, and funny enough and there were about a million other people in the world that Anezka disliked more. As far as friends went, she couldn't think of anyone else in the school she'd rather spend time with – if she needed to spend time with anyone that was, which she was told was part of the normal teenage experience.

What had really perplexed her was why she hadn't tried harder to lie to Snape. Sure she had managed to keep a few important details from him, but she held very little back in her responses to his interrogation. Of course, he had the blackmail of writing to her grandfather, but he had no idea of the true efficacy of that threat. Her grandparents would find out that she was in the country sooner then she liked, but she didn't want them to discover this until she had formed a better plan of where she was going over the summer.

Maybe it had been the fact that she could hear him hitting his breaking point in his voice. She enjoyed pushing, but she didn't want to push to far or too hard, and this time, she hated to admit, maybe she had. Part of her had also caved because it was the first time Snape had bargained with her, rather then just try to command her to do something. Bargaining appealed to her. It implied a certain state of equality, especially when one person held an ace in the hole, as Snape had. He had no need to negotiate but had, and that is the quandary that lulled Anezka to sleep.


	30. Plans

It took many years of my childhood to realize that Jade and Onyx were not really my aunts. I saw them more often than I ever saw any of my mother's dozens of cousins or any great aunts or uncles. My mother always insisted that they were more like siblings than any real siblings would have been to her, in that their friendship was not based on any kind of mutual interests or likeness of mind, but rather a strange variation of what Muggles call Stockholm syndrome. Their kinship had more to do with their mutual survival of their school years and their disinterest in the rest of their peers - a mutually exclusive default, I often heard them all call it.

Over the years, it grew into a much deeper bond, although they bickered and mocked each other more often then not. When I asked what finally pushed them into this honorary sorority, she always cited that Valentine's Day incident.

The months that followed immediately though, were still simply doing favors for each other to make dealing with a common enemy - be it Gretchen or another boy, or a teacher - easier. Onyx continued to tutor Anezka in Charms and Anezka offered whatever Potions help she could. Jade traded answers on Runes homework for an endless supply of Anezka's own variation on Sleak-eaze hair tonic.

But, as the last days of winter progressed into spring, all thoughts turned to summer plans. While not the athletic types themselves, all the Argent girls could speak of was the Quidditch World cup. The play-offs had started, and both of their social calendars would be full of post game soirees and fancy dinners with different teams once term ended and they were at home.

"Oh, Anezka, it's all so much fun! Maybe your grandparents could let you come over for some of the events that mother and dad are hosting." Onyx suggested one evening in their dorm.

From where she sat next to the fire, using a charm to dry her hair, Jade nodded in hearty agreement - the ends of her hair were curling terribly and she feared for her coif over the summer if Anezka wasn't around to supply her with all of her wonderful hair potions and tonics.

Anezka shrugged and refused to make contact with either of their expressions. "I don't know if that would be such a good idea."

"Why not?" While the girls had been on much better terms, having their invitation so readily refused put Jade on edge.

For want of a smoke, Anezka chewed savagely on her already short

nails. "Weeeellll . . . " She hesitated, unsure of what to tell her friends. "My grandparents don't know I am here." She slurred her words together and hardly spoke above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, but it sounded like you just said that your grandparents don't know you are here." Jade scoffed, and was taken aback when Anezka's guilty expression confirmed this. "What? Here at school? How is that possible? You went there for Christmas."

At this Anezka shook her head to the negative, and told them how she had really spent her holiday. "If Grandmama knew I was here, she would be trying to arrange a marriage or doing whatever else fuss-potty, meddlesome grandmother act she could think up. I forged the paperwork to get into the country saying that I would have a legal guardian whilst at school. I mean, what's the harm, I turned 17 back in September." She spoke with confidence knowing that neither of the girls would rat her out. They had reached the point where no one of them could betray any of the others - they all knew too much about each other, and should the girls decide to report Anezka's illegal status to the staff or higher authority, Anezka had equal common fodder in the form of Onyx's muggle-born boyfriend that their parents couldn't know about, or the societal war Jade nearly caused by hexing Draco Malfoy when he had foolishly tried to bully their younger brother, Malachite.

"Well, then, where are you spending your summer holiday then? You can't be going all the way back to Romania? Or worse, to America with your mum?" Onyx was appalled at the mere prospect.

Anezka shrugged again. "I should have enough saved up by the end of term to stay at The Leaky Cauldron again. I would just ask Dad's family for some gold, but they would just tell me to come home."

"Don't be ridiculous, just come home with us." Jade shocked everyone in the room with this sudden act of solidarity and hospitality.

"Slight problem with that, J. Your dad and Old Man Myriddan work together at the Ministry. He might think it a tad suspicious should your dad mention me." Anezka

snarked.

With a roll of her ice blue eyes, Jade brushed off this objection. "He is going to find out sooner or later Anezka. Why not just make it on your terms. Preemptive strike and all. Feed him just enough information to keep him from wondering, but not enough to pique his interest. I mean there'd isn't too much he can do at this point, like you said, you came of age already."

Still unsure, Anezka grabbed at her last objection. "Don't you think you should ask your parents first? I would hate to blow my cover only to find out they vetoed my invite."

By now, Onyx was already reaching for parchment from the small box she kept next to her bed. "Oh, please. Daddy is gunning for your grandfather's position once he retires. I think you could burn down the house and free all the elves and he still wouldn't say boo to you." With no further discussion on the topic, she handed the parchment over her bed to Anezka's, and took a second piece for herself so they could both write home.

Summoning a quill from her bag, Anezka started to write, deciding absolute truth was the best policy.

_Dear Grandpa,_

_So, I guess I should have told you back in September, but I transferred to hogwarts for my last two years of school. I had to drop your name a bit on all the paper work to get it to go through, hope you don't mind. . . . ._Well, almost absolute truth_._

_Mum wasn't going to sign shit for me and dad couldn't cause he's foreign. I should have just asked you, but I was having a hard enough time hiding the forms from your batty daughter, so I figured she might notice if I was owling you large packets of papers every week. I just needed some adult to vouch for me, yknow._

_Anyway, I just figured I'd write to you as it looks like I'm being gang pressed into spending the summer with Jade and Onyx argent. I guess their dad works with you? I would just let a room for the summer, but they are looking for a new toy to play dress up with for the summer, I suppose. I am sure their social calendar will cross with yours at some point._

_Cheers,_

_~A_

With a sigh and a prayer that her grandfather was as even tempered as she remembered him to be, Anezka sealed the letter and bribed one of her roommates to take it to the owlery on their next trip.

Two days later, Anezka's customary breakfast nap was disturbed when a familiar small, grey-blue bird swooped by in a blur of speed, and harsh cawing sounds, and dropped a thin letter on top of her unfilled porridge bowl.

By the time she had woken up enough to pick it up, Jade and Onyx had already read through all of their mail and told her they had received the go-ahead from their parents to bring Anezka home with them in June.

After quipping that their poor parents had no clue what they were opening themselves up for, Anezka broke the seal on here grandfathers response.

_Dearest Anezka Nimue,_

_I hate to ruin you assumption of my ignorance, but I have rather suspected something like this for a while. Jet had mentioned that a port key had been arranged for you back the end of August and after some minor inquires I found that you had been accepted to Hogwarts. I was please with you attending a reputable school for a change, so I didn't ask too many questions on how you managed to get them to approve your paperwork. As you are seventeen now, you don't need my permission or even my alleged guardianship any more, and may stay with whomever you wish. However, as I am supposed to have been responsible for you all this time, I will be adding your name to our account at Gringotts so you can purchase whatever you may need over the summer. I am sure the Argents will be hosting several events that you will need to be properly outfitted for. Keep in mind that I will only be able to hold your Grandmamma at bay for so long, and you might be forced to spend a few days with us. Allow me to extend my many apologies for that in advance._

_Sincerely,_

_Owin_

"Oh, excellent!" Onyx squealed in delight, reading over Anezka's shoulders. "Wait until our first robe fitting with Madame Helene! She's our tailor and her works makes Madame Malkin's look like rags."

"Great." Suddenly, the prospect of finals was the highlight of the upcoming months, and Anezka was questioning her own sanity into agreeing to the summer arrangements.


	31. Espionage

It was the last Saturday before the end of year exams began, and the WART tournament finals were getting bloody. Rather, they were getting artificially bloody and disturbingly traitorous. Two weeks previous, Professor Lupin had announced that the victors of the final WART tournament would be exempted from sitting for their Defence Against the Dark Arts final exams, and would receive full marks for the class. "Often times, the darkest enemy we have to fight is ourselves." He said soberly, looking intently at his students, before setting them into the final rounds. Never had a man been proven more correct.

Team Two was the first to be disqualified, two Saturdays previous. They went down in a blaze of glory, so to speak, openly marching against Team Four and One's hiding spots and were all picked off, one by one, for all their bravery.

The week after was Team Four's defeat. Their exit was not so much of a blaze of glory but more of a fizzling out of a safety match. They were so busy bickering amongst themselves if they should take an offensive versus a defensive stand, that they didn't realize that Team One had them surrounded.

"So, does anyone have any ideas on what Team One's strategy will be this week?" Last week's obvious victory in favour of that team, had shaken Team Three up and the seventh year Hufflepuff who had unofficially taken the role of team captain, was hoping someone had a clever idea. They had taken shelter in the underground harbour that all the first year boats were stored in, and he was pacing in front of the seven or eight other team members who had taken various seats on the rocks that lined the water.

"I know EXACTLY what their plans are!" All eyes turned to Gretchen as she boasted. "I snogged one of their team-mates in a broom closet last night to find out what they were up to. He was a rubbish kisser, but he certainly felt like discussing strategy!" She announced this with pride, and paused for dramatic effect.

"That was me." A tall, handsome but bespectacled Ravenclaw spoke from the far edge of the group, after a moment of silence. "I . . . I was under the impression that she found team discussion . . . that is to say . . . " Whatever embarrassment he felt was soon overshadowed by everyone trying to hide their laughter at Gretchen's blunder.

An uncomfortable and akward silence was eventually broken by a low cough."They are scattering around the perimeter and laying low to wage a guerrilla type battle." Anezka spoke calmly and confidently, nothing of Gretchen's self-praising tone in her statement.

The Hufflepuff leader rolled his eyes. "Do I want to know how you found that out?" He called back to Anezka. "Veritaserum during a midnight swim?"

"No, but I should have done that. That would have been easier." Anezka laughed as she flicked some ash into the water, only to have a breeze push past the ivy curtain and blow the ash back onto her hand, causing her to hiss in pain for a moment and brush the burning paper away. "I found out the same way that I found out that Team Two was planning an aggressive assault and then the same way I convinced Four and One to be ready for them. I told them I was on their team."

"Wait? Are you actually on _our _team." Suddenly, no one really remembered if she had been there from the beginning or not.

"Oh, yeah, totally." No one seemed very convinced, but no questions were asked.

"So, where are they basing themselves?"

Anezka smirked for a moment then stood, summoning a piece of paper and a pink crayon from her bag. After drawing a very unrefined map of the school grounds she drew two large, crooked X's. "We're here, under the castle." The one x was right below the rough lines showing a crenellated wall and a leaning turret. "The best I could discern is that they are using the area underneath the Quidditch stands as their HQ."

"Best you could discern?"

"Well, I couldn't rightly ask were it was without looking a tad suspicious. Anyway, they are using the ? as shelter, but they are scattering all around this area." She rubbed the wax across various sections. "The way I see it, if we can get everyone _out_ of the pitch area at the same time, we can set an ambush."

"Well, how are we supposed to do that?"

"Everyone always comes running for two things, a train wreck and a screaming girl"

All eyes turned and stared at Gretchen.

* * *

"So, they are going to try and lure you out from cover by sending some stupid Slytherin redhead running past, screaming about being attacked by Sirius Black, convinced that something like that would cause you all to start running." Anezka stood in front of Team One, this time her wrinkled, crayon drawn map was magically pinned to a rafter that helped hold up the teacher's grand stand. "They are planning on hiding and ambushing you in the bedlam."

"Well then! That's easy enough to avoid. We'll all just stay in here." A team member said with a shrug.

"Could do. But then you'd loose."

"How do you figure?" Another asked.

"Cause then they'd just come surround the pitch." Anezka said quickly, in hopes that no one would pick up the implications.

She had no such luck, as suddenly the whole team was erupting on her. The two team Hufflepuffs were calling her a traitor, the three Gryffindors were drawing their tournament wands on her, and only other Slytherin was trying to not look impressed by the skilled subversiveness. It was the lone Ravenclaw, a dark hair girl who had remained quiet for most of the meeting that finally caused the din to silence. "OY!" She shouted loudly to get the attention. "If she had really meant to betray us, she wouldn't have told us that she did it."

Everyone silenced at this brilliant statement of something that should have been obvious.

"Finally! Some one gets it!" Anezka said with an eye roll. "When Gretchen goes running past, you all need to follow her. Team Three is expecting you all to either drop or forget your wands in your panic, so make sure to stay armed and be prepared for an onslaught from here." She ran the crayon over the map, forming a big loopy circle around the area where the lake met the outer wall that demarcated the school's boundary. They aren't expecting much of a fight so they are only sending half of the team out, so it shouldn't be much of a scuffle."

* * *

Remus didn't know which way to turn when he first realized what Gretchen was screaming about as she ran across the field. The idea that Sirius was so close by made him doubt for a moment what his action should be. That protecting the students was not his first instinct racked him with self-reproach. Instead he fought the urge to run the opposite direction from the girl and seek out the man that he once considered a friend – whether to try and capture him or to see if he had truly become the maniac everyone accused him to be, he didn't rightly know. With a final, guilty glance over his shoulder to the path Gretchen had run down, he started his descent from the Quidditch tower he was observing the students from.

By the time that he reached the grassy area in front of the main castle doors all pandemonium had broken loose and he wasn't sure what to think. Adrenaline coursed through him and his wand, his real wand, was in hand as he approached the swarm of children who were all shouting.

They were all smeared in various colour dyes, and while they screamed, none were filled with fear. A fair few sounded angry, while some laughed and others called out insults. It took a full minute of observation for Lupin to realize that he was witnessing an epic final battle of all of his WART students, not some brutal carnage of a deranged Azkaban escapee terrorizing the children.

"CEASE YOUR CASTING!" He cried out, with a _sonorus_ charm to be heard. Slowly but surely, all the students lowered their weapons and turned their colour smeared faces towards him, none of them noticing the small, darkly clad figure ducking out from behind one of the winged boar statues, relatively unmarked save for a large purple stain dripping down the front right shin of her torn up jeans. She sidled her way into the crowd, only making eye contact with Remus.

Her expression was inscrutable – he had yet to fully understand the girl that challenged him in his class on an almost daily basis. They had engaged in argument after argument over the course of year and while he seldom let her get the better of him any more, he never really felt he had won in any of the repartees. In all these encounters, he had observed and learned much about the girl. She was classically Slytherin, but in a more subtle sense than most. Blood purity seemed to be a non-issue to her, but she always seemed to be looking at other students like they were idiots. While woefully sloppy and astoundingly late, her class assignments were a tribute to her determination. Her resourcefulness was abundantly obvious by the plethora of detentions she had talked her way out of and rule infractions that she could never be tied to. He had never witnessed any overt signs of ambition, but Lupin knew it had to be there – just as he knew that the simulated wound on her leg was self-inflicted. Her sense of self-preservation would never allow her to put herself in harms way, even in a game, while her cunning would keep her from having others witness this.

It made him wonder if she had actually done anything at all during the entire year's worth of these challenges. While he observed as much and as often as he could, he never seemed to be able to find her amongst the teams.

"Let me review the final scores." He said to the waiting children as he pulled a worn scroll out from his holey cloak pocket. There was no clear answer as to the winning team just by looking at the students. They were supposed to stand down once they received a "mortal" hit, but the frenzy had kept them all involved.

The scroll was a quick chart of his own devising. It had all the student's names listed, divded by teams, and all wands were charmed to have every spell and charm appear on the list under the owner's name, along with who the charm was cast at, and whether or not it hit it's mark. At the bottom of the page, it calculated a numerical score based on all of these 'hits'.

As he gazed across the page, the fact that the most recent jinx cast by A. Sova was cast AT A. Sov, and hit her in the leg came as no surprise. Finally, after a moment of quiet appraisal, he was ready to declare the concluding score. "The winning team, is Team Three."

All of Team Three erupted into cheers, while Team One claimed foul play and unfair advantages. Anezka stood silently, neither clustering with one team or another, showing neither pride in victory or sorrow in defeat. "Congratulations, Team Three, both on this victory, and the full marks you will be receiving on your exams. Team One, be ready for your exam on Tuesday."

Slowly, the students started meandering towards the castle to clean up and grab some late breakfast, and still Anezka stood off, not following or joining either group. Lupin, waiting for the heard of students to pass, crossed to where she was now leaning against the boar statue, and had lit another of her endless supply of cigarettes, and sat on the edge of the stone pedestal next to her.

"Congratulations on your victory, Anezka." He said, in a very serious tone.

She smirked for a bit, but quickly hid the expression behind her smoking. "Mmmh, yeah, fought bravely and all that, I did." She said.

"Yes, I am sure you did." Lupin paused. "And you just happened to be hiding behind this statue cause you needed to tie your shoe?"

They both looked down at her feet, where the cords that looped though the boot's eyelets still dangled loose. She didn't respond but just laughed. "What can I say, I never saw the sense in lining up and facing quite possible 'death'," She surrounded the word with air quotes and a droll expression, "when you can find a secure location and snipe people."

"Some people value such courage you know." He suggested simply, implying himself and many others

With a shrug, she stubbed out the remains of the burning paper on the stone and shoved the crumpled butt into her hoodie pocket. "I value seeing the results of my labour." With that she pushed herself and started towards the castle doors.

It took Lupin a moment to realize that he couldn't help but agree with her, just this one time.


	32. Stalemate

While Anezka's theories on study habits were avant-garde and non traditional, mainly in that she didn't bother studying ever, she always excelled at standardized testing. That is, provided she didn't fall asleep during the exam as she had done on Monday during her History of Magic exam. The portions of the test that she had managed to finish were based off the basic uses of logic to eliminate any multiple choice answers that didn't make any sense and if logic failed, she chose answers based on alphabetical order.

The Charms exam was much easier than she had expected, considering the difficulties she had throughout the course of the terms. Fortunately, it was only a written exam without a practical portion. It was easy enough to bluff your way through a free form essay as long as it was filled with big words and stayed mostly on topic. Transfiguration was much the same. Even Ancient Runes, one of her worst classes was straightforward enough. All that was required was that she write a runic incantation, which she did. It was not very good, but it she managed to complete it with only one or two errors, so it would earn an easy "acceptable" on it.

Astronomy, on the other hand, would have been a catastrophic failure, had Anezka even been allowed to sit for it. However, as she had never shown up to even one class, Professor Sinistra had told her to not even bother to attend the test.

The guaranteed 'Outstanding' in Defense against the Dark Arts, Herbology and Potions were other easy high scorers. However, no one was more shocked than Professor Burbage when she received Anezka's final project and was forced to give it one of the best marks in the entire class. For the ten page essay, Anezka had turned in a fifteen page essay on Machiavelli's "The Prince", discussing both the effects that it had in Renaissance Italy, as well as current muggle misconceptions of the work. She also included a concise and clear interpretation of the author's message and how, if his theories on being 'feared, not hated' were applied appropriately in certain magical elitist groups, the world would be far different. However, her several paragraphs on how Machiavelli would most certainly have been sorted into Slytherin had he been magical, but that he also clearly understood that there needs to be a balance of both courage and cunning, and how that concept could be easily applied at Hogwarts, seemed to be the heart of the thesis.

The sixth year's exam week was very intensive and by Thursday evening, Anezka was sitting on her favorite spot on the roof, frantically chain-smoking, stressed from testing on her entire course load in three days, but glad to have it all over. Now, she just had to figure out how she was going to survive the week and a half, until term actually ended.

From her vantage point, she had a clear view of most of the grounds and couldn't help but take a voyeuristic pleasure out of watching the ant-sized people below her come and go. Grabbing the omnioculars she kept stashed next to her empty pumpkin juice turned ash can, she started scanning the students milling around below her, enjoy the last hours before sunset.

It was the usual crowds. There were couples snogging next to the lake, a gaggle of Ravenclaws hosting a study group under a grove of larch trees, Dumbledore walking with the Minister of Magic and a big bloke carrying an axe, and some Quidditch jocks carrying their brooms towards the pitch for a friendly scrimmage.

"Wait a minute!" Anezka was startled by something that she saw, then panned her looking-glass back from where she had just turned from. "Is that Gretchen sucking the lips off Marcus Flint? Ewwww. . .And I thought her and Smyth-Wessby was stomach turning enough. " And after that observation, she turned to watch the Headmaster's party make their way to the Gamekeeper's cottage. Quickly, the intrigue grew as the bushy-haired busy body from the train, all those months ago, came darting out of the hut's back door followed by a lanky ginger and that Potter kid, according to the Omnioculars. The whole school never shut up about the kid, but Nezza had always managed to avoid dealing with him as she was three years above him and in a different house. But just as suddenly as they had darted out the door, they disappeared

She glanced away, thinking perhaps her eyes had just gone funny, but was had to double take when she saw the same girl and Potter hiding behind a wall that was the exact opposite direction from where they had been, and that they couldn't have possibly gotten to in the split second since she had seen them.

Hesitantly, and with great care, Anezka lowered the omnioculars and lifted her left hand to inspect the smouldering cigarette she held. Quickly, she stubbed it out on the stone wall, afraid that she had finally smoked too much, or had slept too little that she was hallucinating randomly.  
Crawling back in through the window, she collected Harold from where he was sleeping on the window sill and started making her way down for dinner.

* * *

Rage still boiled in Severus's veins as he swooped through the castle hallways. Once again, despite his best efforts, he would never be able to get the better of Sirius damned Black, nor that bastard James Potter. "Harry. He's not James, he's Harry." The voice in his heart whispered to him, but he quickly tuned it out. He couldn't best them when he actively did wrong, and now he could not defeat them now, even though he followed the laws down to the letter.

He knew in the core of his being that Potter had helped Black escape. How else could it have happened. Worse still, he knew Dumbledore had something to do with it. It almost felt like a betrayal, until he remembered that the Headmaster always did what was "right", not what was always the most loyal or what was the most socially correct thing, blasted Gryffindor that he was.

Knowing that he needed to calm himself, before he embarrassed himself, again, as he had done a few moments previously in the hospital wing, he started to make his way to the Slytherin common room. It was very late and most students were still in the middle of exam week and would already be in their beds. He could spend a few moments walking the labyrinth that was inlaid on the common room floor, and he could clear his head. It had been years since he had lost command of himself so extraordinarily. The self-dubbed Marauders always had that horrible effect on him.  
Half whispering, half growling, at his speaking of the word "Ophion" the wall in the basement corridor folded itself out of his way, bidding him to enter the quiet common room. His assumption had been correct. The late hour saw the room abandoned. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief until he saw a lone student sitting upright on the couch, her dark hair askew.

Refusing to let one more student see him in anything other than complete control of his emotions, he took a deep breath and decided he would leave before he lost more of his temper, spinning abruptly towards the door he had just entered through.

"Nice to see you too." Anezka said with a chuckle, taking a long sip from the chipped mug she held.

Swearing under his breath, Snape paused. He had hoped that she hadn't noticed him enter the room. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Shouldn't you not be creeping around the common rooms at two in the morning like some sort of creepy creeper?" She said, setting the mug down, and flipping the dog-eared page in the book that sat between her crossed legs.

"Your wit is failing you." He growled as he started to cross the room. "Go to bed, Miss Sova." He stopped his path when he stood directly in front of her, his arms crossed and his toe subtly tapping against the stone floor.

She barely glanced up from her book, really only raising a brow. "For once I am actually not breaking any rules, and yet you still have to stalk me. I am beginning to think you've got a bit of a crush on me, Snapeykins." Her tone was placid as she spoke and she punctuated herself with another sip of tea.

His mouth opened slightly, taken aback by her attitude. While he was more than used to her glib and often sarcastic responses, he wasn't prepared for them tonight. With a sigh, he looked away. "Again I say, to bed, Miss Sova."

"Alright." Her heavy sigh echoed his, as she tossed her book onto the floor casually. "Yours or mine, Sir?"

"What?!"

She stood and looked up at him. "Clearly you have some preoccupations with 'bed'. I am fairly certain it has to do with some pent-up sexual frustrations, and there is only one way to deal with that." With a smirk, she gave him an overly articulated wink. His face morphed into a combination of outrage, confusion and discomfort. Accepting that he could form no response, he just turned slowly and walked away, ignoring her whispered chuckle. "God, I love fucking with him." She shook her head and sat back down.

As he walked away from her, he looked down out the long-played chess game he had been playing with his unseen opponent. They were down to the last few pieces, and he wasn't sure if the game would be over before the year was, with how slowly it had taken them to get this far in the game.

With barely a thought for the move with all his thoughts being held by Black, Potter, Lupin and now the audacious teasing of that wretched girl, Snape picked up the piece, a knight, and slammed it down on a square, rather than allowing the magical set to move itself. As he continued to the door, the laughter he heard made his stomach lurch.

"Well, that was an interesting choice of moves." Anezka pushed herself up from the black leather cushions, and ambled over to the chess sat that was now just behind Severus's peripheral line of sight. "You could have moved your last castle, rather than that knight, and you would have had a checkmate and win the game. You could have made a dozen other moves." He didn't dare speak, fearing that his words would instigate her to say what he knew was coming. "Instead, you chose to move your knight. It wasn't a bad move. Your opponent's king is now in an untenable position, not in direct danger, but can't move anywhere, without putting it in jeopardy. Also, none of the other pieces can move, as that would then expose the king to attack. A very interesting move. You forced a stalemate when you could have had a win." Her turned just in time to see her tip the silver King Cobra over, making all the pieces intrinsic movement halt, as she ended the game. "I cede the game."

He quickly closed the distance between them, till he stood no more than a foot away from where she was. There was a million thoughts crossing his mind in that split second and none of them made any sense. He grabbed her arm, tightly clenching just above her elbow in a vise like grip, and for the first time in the entire year, he stared the girl in the eyes.

The first thing that he noticed was that her grey eyes seemed to stare right through him. The second thing was that no one other than Dumbledore had actually met his gaze. Not since . . . . not since Lilly. No death eater, no student, no professor. This was the second time this girl had tried to stare him down across the hall, but this was the first time in years that someone stood in front of him, and actually looked at him.

It unsettled him, and the myriad of reactions that were still cycling through his mind became even more strange. Tightening his grip, he finally found a voice. "Go to your room, Miss Sova." And with that he let go and swooped out of the room.


	33. Pregaming

Anezka awoke to four sounds; an odd chirping, occasional clatters, hushed whispers and a constant low buzzing noise. Sitting up slowly, she rubbed at her crusted-over eyes and tried to focus. It took her a few moments to recognize her surroundings, but unlike most, not instantly knowing where she was waking up didn't instill any kind of dread in her.

As her vision cleared she recognized the room to be the private sitting room of Jade and Onyx. Cause, apparently, in the Argent family you got your own private living quarters within the house somewhere around the age of five, or some such thing. Anezka certainly wasn't so worse for the wear that she didn't remember arriving back home last night, but she couldn't seem to pinpoint how exactly she ended up on the couch, with her head buried under a cushion.

"It seems the Peruvian National Quidditch team certainly got the better of you last night." Jade broke away from her muted conversation with her sister and shouted her observation a little louder than necessary upon noticing her friends awakening. After enjoying the squirm Anezka made from the noise, she went back to sipping her breakfast tea from the porcelain cup she held delicately in one hand.

Well, that explained the hushed tones and the clinking, clattering sounds. Onyx was putting yet more sugar in her coffee, making it more sweet sludge than liquid any more. As Anezka's sight started straightening out more, she saw Jade feeding crumbs of the fresh breakfast brioche that had been served up by the house elves to her small flock of Atlantian Budgies that were housed next to the breakfast table in a silver cage. And there lie the chirping. Now, if only the low buzzing in Anezka's ears would go away, maybe then her head would stop pounding. "They did not!" She croaked. "I drank everyone of them under the table." This was asserted firmly, until she tried to stand. "I just didn't stay above it for much longer." She managed to stumble her way across the room and collapse in the brocade covered side chair that was placed with three matching chairs around the gray oak pedestal table that was situated by the large french doors onto a small stone balcony.

In search of a smoke, she reached an unsteady hand into the back pocket of the hand me down jean skirt that the twins had dressed her in last night, in hopes of making her more fashionable. Their hopes had been quashed, however, when she paired it with a tie-dyed t-shirt and her favorite boots, which she now was placing on the edge of the table while she lit up. "As a side note, thank you for distracting two of the team members. I don't think I could have handled all seven rounds of Galleon or Knut without some serious alcohol poisoning." Both twins had snuck out at various points in the evening with one of the beaters and the seeker.

"Oh, any time." Jade smirked for a moment, but continued with her brioche.

As if on cue, a tall, shirtless young man, wandered out from one of the twins bedrooms, looking disoriented, but well rested. A smile crossed his tan face as he looked across the room and saw Onxy. "Buen día, dulzura." He sat down next to her, and brushed his ebony hair away from his face.

Smirk turning into a hardened glare, Jade tried to give her sister a kick under the table, but succeeded only in kicking the back leg of the chair that Nezza was leaning back on. The subsequent jerk of gravity bringing the front two legs of the chair back to the floor caused Nezza to slosh coffee all down the front of her shirt.

Onyx herself looked slightly annoyed that the muscular gentleman was now resting his hand on her knee while helping himself to a cup of coffee. She didn't speak though until he started picking the remains of her quiche off of her plate. "Look, Manuel, I don't want to rush your breakfast, but we have a huge party that our parents are hosting hosting tonight that we have to get ready for. There's a dress fitting, then a hair appointment and we have to head out in about fifteen minutes or so."

Far from dimming his already million watt smile, his face brightened and he leaned over and kissed Onyx loudly on the cheek. "Si, preciosa. Let me collect my things." He sauntered back towards the bedroom door. He was clearly relieved that he no longer had to play the doting gentleman.

"I love it when they don't cling." Onyx said, pushing her plate away from her.

"NYX! What were you thinking? I can't believe you brought him back here! I mean, what is his background? Does he come from a good magical family? Is he pureblood?"

"I wasn't really asking." Onyx laughed, winking at her sister and her friends. Jade continued to look entirely unamused. "Oh, come off it Jay! You didn't seem too concerned about social standing and blood status when you were crawling all over Ramirez last night."

"But I didn't . . ." She trailed off as Manuel reemerged from Onyx's room, this time fully dressed. "Bring him home with me." She leaned over the table to whisper hoarsely.

"It was fun, no?" Sitting back down momentarily next to her to tie his shoes, he graced Onyx with another smile. "Maybe we can do it again at the next World Cup?" He said, then stood

Onyx nodded. "Sounds like a plan." With a snap of her fingers, a house elf apparated into the room. "Poppet here can take you anywhere you need to go."

With a final and almost platonic, quick kiss, he crossed to where the house elf waited and gave her directions to his destination. With a call of "Nos vemos, querida." They both disappeared with a pop.

"Onyx Sage Argent! What would Mum and Daddy say if they found out!" Jade's tone reached a new level of shrill as she spoke.

With a wrinkle of her nose, Onyx frowned. "Well, they won't find out if no one tells them. And if they don't find out, they won't care. You know the rules. 'Don't get caught, don't catch any bad press, don't get pregnant and don't get too attached to anyone that you can't marry.' I think I managed to pull all of those off rather nicely."

Finally, no longer able to resist the urge, Anezka lit the end of the cigarette she had been twirling between fingers for the past ten minutes. "I have to say, I'm impressed at that 'getting ready for a party' line you fed him. That was a good one."

"Well, it's true. Mum and Daddy are having a party tonight."

"So, they have a party _every_ night." Anezka had already been subjected to more tea parties, garden parties, dinners and theater nights than she could even remember. The taking the losing teams out for drinks after the semi-final games, however, had been an idea that occurred naturally to the teenaged girls.

"Well this one is different. It's a more formal do then the other. Dress robe cocktail attire is required. Everyone who is anyone is going to be there, including the two final teams and all the foreign dignitaries. We have an appointment at Madame Helene's at eleven, and then a few hours reserved at Spa la Glamours in the afternoon."

Nezza flinched and took a long drag. "What joy is mine."

* * *

"I look like a fucking fairy cake." Anezka said, as she emerged from a fitting room, hair even more tousled than usual, a testament to the struggle she had pulling the dark magenta confection-like dress of twinkle satin and layers of organza on over her head. An unlit cigarette hung from her mouth, and she still wore her black boots, rather than the matching pink pumps the twins had told her to try on with the short cocktail dress.

Both twins squealed in delight upon seeing her, despite her obvious displeasure. "Oh, that is such a perfect colour for your complexion!"

"And you are so thin, you can pull of that high waist so well!"

Anezka's only response was to look at them both like they were crazy.

"Perhaps another colour, Mademoiselle Anezka?" Madame Helene, an elderly yet sophisticated witch said. Before Anezka could respond that it had nothing to do with the colour, Helene had flicked her ornately carved black oak wand, and the dress became a very chic burnt orange.

Nezza looked down at herself, and her already skeptical expression turned entirely disdainful. "Now I look like a pumpkin bloody pasty!"

It took about four more colour changes, and the twins stepping down from their fitting podiums and searching through the racks themselves, still clad in the basque-waisted, ruffled skirt cocktail dresses they were being fitted for.

"Well, what about this one?" One twin asked of another.

"When in doubt, go for the LBD." The twins smiled at each other and called Madame Helene over for her approval.

* * *

"There is no hope for this hair." A stylist at Spa la Glamours, said as he tugged at the wayward hanks of dark hair atop Anezka's head. "I could try to do charm extensions, but that won't hide the short layers, and it will just look like a glorified mullet." He tutted seriously, and shook his head, so disturbed by the horrible cut and shape of her hair, that he couldn't help himself but to wince. "There will be no classic up-do for you, I fear, my dear." He said, making eye contact with Anezka through the mirror that hung in front of them.

"Oh no. How ever will I deal with the heartbreak?" Her grey eyes rolled, and she looked back down at the ten year old copy of Witch Weekly that was proving a poor substitute for her as of yet unsmoked cigarette, for her frazzled patience and nerves.

"Is there anything you can do to make it at least presentable, Jay?" Onyx asked, from beneath the the bludger-sized curlers that were going to give her hair the perfect, soft, tousled curls.

Jacques, or Jay, as the twin affectionately called their regular stylist, shook his head. "Well, if you can't beat them, join them. I could take off an inch or two and make it more of an edgy, layered, choppy pixie bob and less blind giant wielding a razor with a broken enchantment mess."

"Was that even grammatically correct English? I didn't think you were allowed to use that many adjectives in one sentence." Anezka turned to look at Jade, who had the salon pixie running streaks of liquid silver through her already golden hair, to give her the sparkling highlights she was looking for. Jay, who had already reached for his pinking shears and razor blade sighed dramatically, and forced her head back to its front facing position, and started using his wand to try and work out some permanent knots, yanking the cigarette out from behind her ear, and tossing it into the trash

"Uhg, if we knew you were going to whine all afternoon we would have left you at home to sleep off your hangover and just brought everything back to you, as we are having to pick everything out for you anyway. Why did you even come if you didn't want to buy anything?"

"Firstly, did I really have a choice?" Anezka asked rhetorically, as her hair continued to be tugged at. Both Argent girls pondered for a moment, then nodded in acquiescence. "Next off, just how much do you think I trust your judgement. If I am going to be spending THAT much gold," she pointed angrily over her shoulder where a mountain of elegant shopping bags were dumped in a heap, "I want at least some veto power."

"You really have to learn to accessorize better. If it hadn't been for us, you would have just picked some ready-made rag from some High Street dump and called it good, and shown up tonight in a lycra A-line and your manky boots."

"That brings me to point C!" By now, Jay was clipping strategic hanks of hair away from her. "How in the name of merlin's dingy y-fronts is my wretched grandmother going to be impressed by a pair of unassuming black pumps, no matter what their price tag is?"

"Trust us, she will know what the price tag is. Besides, why this all fire urge to make sure your grandmother is impressed. I mean, you are her daughter's child, not someone trying to marry into her family!" Onyx said, as she was having a bright yellow facial mask applied to her forehead.

It took Anezka a full moment to get around to answering the question, as the horoscope section of the magazine had intrigued her for a full second. '_Libra, you appear to be detached and aloof, but your personality resembles a volcano under an iceberg.' "_How is that even a horoscope. What a bag of shit. Huh, what? Oh, yeah, Grandmama Elenor is quite possibly the most annoying woman ever, right? Like, talking to her is like talking to a howler. Her voice is so irritating that after two minutes you'd rather gouge you own ears out with a quill than to keep listening to her. And the thing is, she can find fault with anybody, ANYBODY. And while normally I don't care about things like that, the more she finds wrong the more she talks."

"Surely she can't be that critical, especially of you! You are family!"

Anezka snorted. "My squib aunt she can't! Like, if Aurora Le Fay, the half-veela model, stood in front of her, she would tell her she was ugly, and will never catch a husband with hair like hers. And she's even more harsh on her family cause they 'make her look bad'."

Jade and Onyx exchanged worried glances. "Well, then. You are doomed."


	34. Soiree

The Argent butler stood at the base of the grand staircase, directing the house elves in the final arrangement of decorations around the Grand Ballroom, while Mrs. Argent fussed with the seating cards that were floating next to the archway into the Dining Hall.  
Looking up for a moment, he paused in his tasks, and cleared his throat. "Miss Jade, and Miss Onyx, are ready, Madam." He announced as the two girls made their way down both sides of the dueling curved staircases, that twined about the far sides of the rooms.

"Oh, girls, you look lovely!" Amelia Argent, clad in a slim, form fitted, floor length frock, looked over her shoulder, to gaze at her daughters. "Jet! Jet, come look at the girls." She called to her husband who was on the other side of the door, taste-testing the hors d'oeuvres.

He leaned onto the door frame, popping another ham and gruyere palmier into his mouth. "There is not a man in the world who deserves either one of you and I expect at least one dance with both of you." He practically beamed at his daughters, his dark green eyes glowing with pride.

With a smile, and a final wave of her wand, to put the seating cards into a preferable order, Amelia turned and walked towards the girls. "Now, Malachite is upstairs with the governess, and as Veridian and Obsidian won't be arriving home until dinner has been served, it will be up to you girls to be on duty for the receiving line as your father and I must be free to greet the Minister when he arrives." She reached down and smoothed the silver sequined fabric of the gown she wore.

The twins rolled their eyes a bit, but didn't dare argue with their mother, due, in large part, to the fact that their mother hardly ever commanded them to do anything and they even more seldom said no to her. Even if they had wanted to, they wouldn't have had the opportunity, for at that moment, the butler once again cleared his throat. "Miss Anezka Sova". His words were echoed by the stilted taps of high heels against the marble stairs.

Nezza held a white-knuckled grip on the ornate silver handrail, and was taking the steps one at a time, teetering precariously with every move.

"Oh, for pity's sake Nezza! They are only a two inch heel." With a frustrated sigh, Onyx quickly pulled her wand and cast an Equilibrium Charm on her friend. "There, now you shouldn't have any falls all night."

Hesitantly, she took the last few steps without clutching the bannister, and looked shocked when she made it to the floor level without near death or broken appendage. "Impressive, Nyx, impressive." Anezka nodded in approval, as she looked down at the black silk, bejeweled strappy pumps, that she was certain would be the death of her, if left to her own devices.

"Anezka, you look perfectly charming!" Amelia said, giving her daughters' guest an approving glance over. "Would you mind terribly standing with the girls by the front entrance? The first guests should be arriving shortly and we need them to be there to greet them as they come in."

Once again, Mrs. Argent asked kindly, but really didn't imply that there was any other answer rather than 'yes'. In a breeze of designer perfume and the swishing of sequined satin, she sashayed to the other side of the room, where a drinks bar was having glasses filled by the last remaining house elf that hadn't already returned to the kitchen.

Tugging on her arms, keeping her from grabbing a glass off a passing tray of champagne, both Jade and Onyx pulled Anezka towards the front door.

Protestations of the manhandling were cut short for as soon as they reached their posts, the great Iron and glass doors swung open and the first guests started trickling through.

"Uhg, of course the Malfoys are the first through the doors. Gauche bourgeoisies. Just watch, next they will be heading right to the hors d'oeuvre trays." Jade's derisive sneer quickly turned into a pandering smile as the first guests in question finished turning over their cloaks to the servant and approached. "Mister Malfoy, how wonderful you could attend tonight! And Missus Malfoy, what a lovely gown, we are so pleased to see you."

The tall blond man strut past them brusquely, barely returning their greeting. His wife at least paused for a moment and traded brief social pleasantries, and inquiries to their summers, then quickly tailed after her husband, who had, indeed, already filled a plate with a large pile of small edibles.

"Well, at least they left that pointy-faced son of theirs at home." Jade muttered to herself as soon as they were out of earshot.  
"Malfoy, he's in Slytherin, isn't he?" Anezka asked, trying to piece together what was sure to be the start of a long list of who's-who.  
Onyx nodded. "Yes, he's going into fourth year this term. He's a right little prick. He picks on poor Mal all the time. Well, he picks on all the firsties, but he was truly rotten to poor Mal." If looks could jinx, the glare she shot at the back of the senior Malfoys would have been potent enough to rub off on their child.  
"Oh, look alive, here come more." Jade said, elbowing the companions she stood between, as a flock of Ministry dignitaries and other well-heeled socialites started filing through the doors.

After that came both of the Quidditch teams, set to play the following Monday. Anezka had held no real intention to really speak to anyone who came through the doors, but to simply stand there and be decorative, but that plan was doomed for failure, as there were more guests than the twins could greet individually. Before she knew it, she was being approached by a tall and athletically built young man, dressed smartly, in an elegant set of charcoal grey dress robes, sans waistcoat. He courteously grabbed her lace gloved hand and bowed over it it gallantly. "Miss Sova, I believe?" He asked, his accent placed him to be on the Bulgarian team.

Nezza quirked a dark eyebrow. "Depends on who's asking." She said, cagily.

The boy smiled a bit. "My name is Viktor. I attend school with your cousin and I recognized the family resemblance. He told me I might see you during my time in England."

"Oh!" Dropping her guarded manner, she replaced it with a moment of confusion. "Which cousin?"

"Valentine."

Again, Nezza nodded. "Oh, yeah. He's a bit of a knob isn't he? He used to pick on me and call me mean names in Romanian, before I learned any. He used to tell me dung beetles were prettier than me."

Viktor laughed. "He can be a bit rude, but that makes him rather popular at school. What did you do to him to change his mind? He only spoke highly of you and your looks when I left to come here."

"Well, it was either telling him that it was good he thought that cause, a dung beetle would be the only thing that would do him, back when we were seven, or it was me winning the cow tongue eating contest last summer. Or maybe when I smashed a beer can on my forehead, after eating all the cow tongue. Not really sure." She trailed off, clearly puzzled on what could have had her cousin calling her anything other than an ugly, stupid sow, like he used to do, and obviously taking no notice of the implication that her cousin was trying to chat her up to his friend.

"Perhaps." Viktor looked a bit confused, either by her uses of colloquialisms, the rapidity of her speech,or by why on earth his friend had thought that his cousin was a good option to try and set Viktor up with. Bidding her a temporary farewell, he continued into the gallery.

Nezza watched him go, as equally confused by the whole interaction and only turned her attention back to where she was when she heard a duo of sighs behind her. "What's with you two?"

"It is so not fair that you got to chat up Viktor Krum while I got stuck talking to the Irish beater who clearly had been having some pre-cocktail party cocktails." Jade was practically rabid with envy.

"Merlin, is he gorgeous!" Onyx sighed dreamily, still watching the Bulgarian athlete as he met up with some of his teammates.

With a snort of disagreement, Nezza shrugged. "Eh, he's not all that. She was met with dead silence and she had to turn to see both of her friends staring at her, guppy-mouthed in shock. "What? I mean, I guess he's alright, but he's kinda, just . . . average. Unremarkable, that one."

After a few sputtering starts, Jade finally found the words. "Alright? ALRIGHT? If he is only alright, I defy you to find one good looking person in this crowd. Go on, point out one person who is good looking to you."

Scanning what was by then, a sizeable crowd, she cast her grey eyes on a figure that stood diagonally across the room from the girls. "There, that bloke talking to your dad. He's a bit of a looker - I caught a glimpse of his profile." The man in question had his back to them and was clad in all black - not semi-formal dress robes like everyone else, but carefully tailored in elegant fabrics and suited the man's slender frame. Shoulder length, glossy black hair was pulled into a small queue with a black ribbon that was knotted with little regard to style or polish.

If the girls were agape with the confession that Anezka did not feel any attraction to Viktor Krum, they looked absolutely paralyzed in shock as they took note of whom she pointed out. "DON'T YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS?!" Jade shrieked, when she finally found her words, and her raised voice certainly caused a few glances.

"Should I?" Anezka asked, a little miffed that her friend was causing such a scene.

"That is Professor SNAPE!" This was hissed in a hoarse whisper, and said around gagging noises.

Angling her head to one side, Anezka took a long, hard stare at the man, who finally ended his conversation with Jet and turned to find his way to the bar, giving the girls a full view of his face. "Oh. So it is." She sounded neither disturbed or upset by this revelation.

* * *

Social functions were never high on Severus's priority list. While he chose to believe that it had to do with his general mistrust and dislike of humanity in general, it had more to do with the lack of invitations. The height of his social calendar was the annual Faculty Mixer and Disco that Dumbledore arranged at the start of every year and forced him to make an appearance at. He hadn't been to an event such as this for years, not since before he started teaching, back when . . . . he didn't finish the thought but grabbed at his left forearm.

Looking around the room, he recognized that a good fair few of the guests had also once been at soirees that served as Death Eater meet and greets back in the day. Not Jet Argent though, he had never taken the mark. If Snape remembered correctly, he had moved to France right around the time the Dark Lord had begun actively recruiting.

"Glad you could make it Snape!" The debonaire, dark haired host said, shaking Severus's hand warmly. "You are looking well. I don't think I've seen you since Veridian and Obsidian left school."

Just as he was about to open his mouth to contribute some meaningless chit chat to the already painfully asinine conversation, he was cut off by something that sounded like the strained warbling of a dying bird. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Argent daughters talking to a petite dark haired girl, clad in black lace. He couldn't see the girl's face, but clearly she had said something that had disturbed the blonde twin as she looked practically apoplectic.

"I am not sure who that is with your daughters, Argent, but she seems to have broken their ever unflappable sense of poise."

Jet chuckled as he glanced over to the girls. "Oh, surely you know her! That's Anezka Sova, she's in your house with my girls." Swallowing slowly, Snape felt his stomach lurch as the girl turned, and he recognized the slightly upturned nose and the mocking, dark eyes. "She has been a house guest this summer. Her grandparents have been too busy, and didn't want to leave her alone at their house in Wales all holiday."

"Hopefully you have all your valuables well warded." Snape growled, earning a polite chuckle from his host, who then promptly excused himself to go mingle with the rest of the guests, but not before encouraging Snape to help himself to a drink.

Following the invitation, he made his way to the bar, collecting a black and cut crystal glass filled with ice and amber liquid. He wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner and make it through the night without having to deal with too many people. The only reason he had accepted the invitation was that he would have been a fool to refuse. Jet might make it all the way up the ranks to Minister, if he kept playing his cards right and to refuse his invitation now would certainly be remembered later.

No sooner had he taken a sip of the whiskey, then the Hostess made her way around the room on the arm of the Minister of Magic. "Oh, Professor Snape. The girls will be pleased to see you."  
Fudge also greeted him, warmly enough to be sure, but making oblique references to the whole Black debacle, remindinghim of all that he lacked. Of never receiving the Order of Merlin that he had wanted so badly, of the years of torment at Black's hands, of knowing that he never seemed to belong to this glittering crowd that surrounded him now. The shimmering of Amelia Argent's dress as she minced away, laughing at something tedious the Minister just said, made his standard black look even more dull than it naturally was.  
Bolting down the rest of his drink, he had his glass refilled, then, wishing to survive the night with as little social interaction as possible, he spotted a quiet corner on the far side of the room, abandoned in large by most of the party, for its obscure location, underneath the curve of the step, and its dim lighting.  
A few moments passed in blissful, quiet observations of the crowds and he was so intent on watching people such as the Malfoys and Avery and Mcnair congregating, wondering what they might be up to, that he didn't notice, when another figure clad in all black, ducked into the shadows next to him.  
"You stole my corner Snapeykins." Startled, but just managing not to jump, he looked towards his right, were Anezka now stood, swilling champagne out of a crystal flute that matched his rocks glass.  
"I did not see your name engraved on it anywhere, Miss Sova"  
She shook her head, which, he couldn't help but notice, was actually groomed and styled. "Nope, I decided at exactly half past one this afternoon that I was going to come hide here under the stairs as soon as I escaped from the clutches of the debutants of doom."  
Snape found himself stifling a small chuckle. "If you find their company so abhorrent, then why are you spending the summer holiday with them?"

Looking directly at him, she angled her head to one side. "For much the same reason you came to this rubbish party. We find ourselves incapable of saying no to people who can help us get ahead in life." He didn't respond but continued to stare into the crowd, refusing to let her see how close to the truth she had hit. "At any rate, I saw you standing over here all by your lonesome and I figured talking even to me, with my chronic verbal diarrhea, would be better than skulking in a corner by yourself." He graced her with the smallest of smiles, barely more than a slight crook at the side of his mouth. "And I'd like to imagine that I am better company than the ever rotund and ever flatulent Mrs. Goyle over there, who likes to ask highly impertinent questions about one's sex life. I always make up the weirdest, most freaky things I can think of to tell her. It's a well known fact that if you are talking to someone already, other people are less likely to come bother you. "

Snape's face remained almost entirely passive, even if the references to Ermentrude Goyle's physique and social impropriety rang comically true. Instead, he kept his intent stare on an sophisticated elder wizard approaching them. "Is that so, Miss Sova? Then perhaps you would care to explain the man that is coming this way?"

"Bollocks!" Nezza hissed to herself, then knocked back the remainder of the half full champagne flute. "Granddad." She tried ducking for cover behind her professor, but he prevented her, by grabbing at her elbow and pulling her forward, just as the man reached the spot.

"Granddaughter." He greeted formally, giving her a kind, but painfully stiff hug. "You are looking well. Much improved since I last saw you."

"Well, as the last time you saw me was when I was nine, covered in mud and with a bloody nose, I don't think that takes much."

"Still keen to argue every point I see." He quipped but didn't sound in the least put out by the fact. "Perhaps you should become a barrister when you are done at Hogwarts." A pained look crossed Nezza's face, as if she truly wished to once again contest what he had to say, but was actually, for once, holding herself back. "I hope the school year went well and that you've been enjoying your summer." His questions were conciliatory but there was no emotion in them other than a stunted social uncertainty, as if the man had no earthly clue on how to speak to his own kin. He cleared his throat. "How is your Mother?"

"Couldn't tell you. Haven't heard from her since Christmas." Snape was slightly confused by the terse nature in Anezka's answers. He had never heard her so brief and so unenthusiastic about anything she had to say, then as when she answered these questions.

An awkward silence fell over the threesome, until finally Anezka's grandfather cleared his throat. "Granddaughter, why don't you introduce me to you gentleman companion? Is he your escort for the evening?"

This finally brought out a more familiar Sova. "If he was my escort, I should be getting far better grades then I am!" She laughed hysterically for a moment. "Grandad, this is Professor Snape, my Head of House and Potions teacher.. Snapeykins, this is my Granddad, Owin Myriddan, Director of the Department of Communications at the Ministry." She smirked and as the two men were formally shaking hands she noticed their party was being approached by yet another person. Snape couldn't have been more startled than as when she unceremoniously ripped his still half full glass out of his hands and tossed back the strong liquid quickly.

"Annie, Daaarling!" The woman who was joining them in the corner was dressed to what Snape could only assume was social perfection, and she brushed right past Owin and himself right to where the usually brazen girl was practically cowering.

"Grandmother." Anezka bore the continental cheek kisses the older woman barely touched to either cheek. "I'd really rather be called Anezka, y'know. . ."

"Oh, Annie! Look at you!" She paused and motioned for her granddaughter to turn. "What on EARTH are you wearing? Don't you think that black lace and diamond choker a little too avant-garde and overdressed for this function?"

Anezka rolled her eyes and snorted. "Says the woman in an aubergine taffeta ballgown." She quietly griped to herself, causing her grandfather to stifle a chuckle and even Snape himself felt himself agreeing with her.

"Don't snort darling. It's almost as deplorably undignified as mumbling. And for pity's sake, stand up straight. You will never catch a husband slouching in a corner all the time. Although, with that haircut, no man will look closely enough to notice the slouching to be sure." The woman started tugging at Anezka's dark locks, trying to flatten down the few strands that were defying what was sure to be all sorts of hair tonics. She continued her tirade, letting no one else get a word in.

Snape did not, by any means, consider himself a kind or generous man. In fact he often prided himself on the fact that he could spot a flaw in something everyone else saw as perfect. But even his harsh and critical nature bowed in the wake of this woman. He knew what it was like to never be able to live up to peoples standards and he saw his student crumble in front of this woman in a way that he didn't ever seem to recall seeing a person do. Oh, she certainly held her head high, but of all the things he'd ever taken note of in her expressive eyes, sadness had never been one of them.

And it was all such pointless criticisms, for, as far as Snape could tell, her outfit certainly seemed to show off what some would consider more attractive aspects of the girl. The short sleeves managed to obscure the rather radical tattoos, and the dark colour made her skin look even more pale and smooth. It didn't occur to him until later to wonder when he had noticed her skin was smooth looking in the first place for there to be a comparison now. The fit of the dress in question was also nice, accentuating a small waist, while hiding the more emaciated aspect to her physique. The fact that for once he, the master of all criticisms, could find no obvious flaw to point out, and yet this woman seemed to want to make a show of upbraiding the girl, made him rather irritated and feeling as if he should say something.

He was beaten to the punch however, when finally Sova raised her chin and took a step closer to her grandmother. "Mum is just fine by the way, thanks for asking. I will make sure to tell her you say hello. We wouldn't want her to think you are ashamed of her for being a Squib, now would you?"

With amazing speed, Mrs. Myriddan quieted, then after shooting a million daggers with her glare, turned around and started walking away. "Come along Owin, we must go thank my wonderful nephew for throwing this most charming party." Her husband followed her, but not before shaking Snape's hand in farewell and casting an apologetic smile at his granddaughter.

"It's dinner AND a show, wherever the Myriddan clan goes!" She snipped, caustically. "Aren't they just a barrel of laughs." Even if Snape hadn't been an excellent reader of emotions and thoughts, he could have easily told, this girl was on the verge of tears, and he silently pleaded that the girl's devil-may-care attitude would come back quickly, both for his own sanity and the girl's own pride. "She hates being reminded that even has a daughter, none the less . . . well, y'know. Makes you wonder why she bothers with me then." And, as if to cater to his unspoken wish, all of a sudden an invisble mask covered her face and she smiled and smirked as if nothing had happened. The sudden change amazed him.

It was then that he noticed that one of the Argent twins was now invading what was supposed to be his corner of solitude and quiet. "Oh, hello professor! Nez, I'm sorry, but Mum has you seated next to Mrs. Goyle. I asked her to change it, but that is the only other empty single seat. I'm sorry." And with that, the girl walked away to start herding guests towards the dining room.

"Oh, this night just keeps getting better and better. Maybe when she asks, I will just tell her I'm shagging you. That should get her to shut up pretty quick."

And with that she walked away, and of all the things Snape should have been dwelling on, all he could think of, was how entirely different she looked in that dress.


	35. Term

For all the conversation going on in their compartment, the morning of September first, Anezka might as well have been alone on the train as she had been exactly a year previous. The morning had started in high enough spirits. The trunks had been packed and the last evening of freedom had been spent in the back garden of the house with a bonfire and the whole family. The morning was supposed to have been a leisurely and laid back affair, with a full and formal breakfast, also with the family, to see them off, after which the plan was for all three girls to Apparate themselves to 9 ¾ . This the plan up until the moment the breakfast dishes had been vanished back to the kitchens, when Anezka pointed out that she couldn't Apparate. Leastwise, she couldn't Apparate legally, and popping into King's Cross with dozens of adults, parents, and possible ministry officials seemed like a recipe for disaster.

This very distinct hiccup in their plans had a small part in Jade and Onyx's silence once aboard the train. Their visions of gracefully arriving at the station had been ruined by their actual entrance, having to arrive with their friend side-alonging, tripping over herself and pulling her friends down with her, once their feet hit the platform, and everyone laughing at them. The twins had unconsciously taken a vow of silence until they could figure out a suitable revenge.

The rain suited this mood that floated above the three girls in the compartment like a storm cloud and all of them seemed to want nothing to do with the others. Onyx was already cracking open her new Charm's text, Jade was listlessly leafing through the latest Daily Prophet and Anezka was intently looking over the ink-scribbled pages of a small, palm-sized leather journal.

On the linen paper sheets, were numbers. None followed any pattern, but were just listed in a wavering and uneven column, occasionally tallied up in a margin. Retrieving a chewed up biro from her bag, she added another few numbers and re-tallied. Biting her lower lip upon seeing the final number, she looked across to her classmate. "Hey J, are you reading the classifieds?"

"No." Her response was terse and she made no move to remove the pages of the paper that Anezka asked for.

Knowing what had to be done, Anezka rolled her eyes, glanced at the numbers once more then spoke. "Merlin's sake, Jade, I've already said I'd pay to take the damned test. What more do you want from me? Blood?" Her friend sniffed, still miffed, but remained otherwise silent. "Alright, I will give you your next bottle of hair tonic for free."

Her nose went higher in the air, but her rapidly pulling out the sheets of newsprint and tossing them at her friend was her sign of agreement. Skipping past all the "Looking for Love" and "Items wanted" advertisements, she found three listings under the catagory she was looking for.

_- Shop to let; North side of Diagon Alley, 539 square feet located between Magical Menagerie and Gringotts. 10,000G/Annum_

_- To let; 900 square feet shop space with living quarters. 6,400G/Annum or 600G/monthly. Inquire at Borgin and Burkes._

_- Shop space available for Ottery Saint Catchpole's Samhain festival. Send inquiries to Box 325, Ottery Saint Catchpole, Devon, EX12 _

"Uhg, what a horrible waste of a perfectly good after-party." Jade groaned and refolded the portion of the newspaper she still held, that was filled with article after article of the the events that followed the Quidditch world cup.

"Still not over that two weeks later, I see." Anezka said, ripping out the advertisements and sliding them in between pages of her journal.

"I just don't know why Daddy had to cancel the last party of the season because of that stupid little riot. I had the perfect dress picked out." Jade continued to sulk.

"Maybe something to do with the fact that half the guest list probably wouldn't show cause they were too busy putting their masks away?" Anezka quipped snidely as she started chewing on her thumbnail.

"Don't be silly Anezka." Jade snapped back, looking irate, but then her expression softened a little. "It doesn't take that long to put them away." All three laughed at this, just a little.

"At least the night before went off without a hitch." Onyx added before the conversation died down and the girls went back to their silent, only now less irritated, individual pursuits.

Thinking back to the grand party at the Argents, prior to the World Cup final, Anezka could really only remember one thing vividly and that had been the absolute look of shock and confusion on Severus Snape's face when she told him that she was going to use an imaginary tryst with him to stop Mrs. Goyle's prying. She didn't of course say anything, but the temptation was there and she had no shortage of creative ideas. She could say that during the last night in the common rooms, when he angrily stormed across the room to where she stood over the chess set and grabbed her arm, a fiery and passionate kiss ended their conversation and she could build from there.

Just as she was thinking about how she could have expounded on any of the late night encounters they had during the course of the last year, the door to their compartment flew open, disturbing the silence. "Oh. MY. GOD! Have you three heard?" All three looked up to see an excited and portly looking Gretchen standing in the doorway. "I was talking to Hestia Carrow, who was talking to Millicent Bulstrode, who was talking to Pansy Parkinson who was talking to Draco Malfoy, and she told me that Millie said that Pansy said that Draco said that there was going to be some kind of tournament or something or other but that is why we needed dress robes this year - because there is going to be a BALL!" She squealed and practically shook in excitement, before running back to the hallway, no doubt to go continuing her telling of news.

Onyx looked bemused and Anezka looked terrified by either the revelation of events to come or the way they would delivered, but Jade just sneered. "Oh please. That is so old news. Who told Malfoy, anyway?"

* * *

Snape sat ram-rod straight in his chair at the feast. The sorting had been done, none of the students particularly stood out to him as being anything above average and now food was being scarfed back at an alarming pace. All the other teachers had started to relax into their seats but he preferred to not let down his guard. Soon, Dumbledore would be announcing the coming of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and hopefully the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would deign to make an appearance. Once again, the new term was off to a less then pleasing start.

As he looked out over the crowds, the homogenized nature of the student body stood out to him. Certainly, every year brought a new class, but they all followed the same stereotypes. There were the smart ones, the rebellious ones, the athletic ones, the hopeless ones. Even the broader demographics all followed very distinct outlines. There were the wealthy and there were the poor - the wizarding community didn't deal well with the concept of middle class. The muggle-borns were simply that, with no regard to rich or not, as far as the social caste system of Hogwarts went.

There were only two children that stood out from the crowd. The first was, of course, that arrogant, big-headed Potter brat. His distinction was obvious, in that every other student payed attention to him, either in awe, or in the case of a handful of Slytherins, disgust. Still, attention was attention and Harry seemed to bask in it. He always whinged on and on about how he just wanted to be 'normal', but then never behaved as if he was. The unquestioned popularity and chronic show-off-ism made Snape's ire burn, slow and hot. Thankfully, this year, there shouldn't be any more incidents that would keep Snape chasing after him, to make sure he stayed alive. Alastor Moody, while Snape questioned the new professor's sanity and that of Dumbledore to hire him, was most certainly not keen to kill the child, unlike some of the previous people in his role. Sirius Black was still on the loose, but at least now, it seemed, that he had no intention of killing Harry. And, as Harry was only a fourth year and not eligible to participate in the Tournament, it should be a simple, quiet year as far as the vow to keep Lily's son safe from death or dismemberment went. Still, Snape could not let himself relax. He knew better than to accept things as they seemed.

And if the young Potter caused his anger to flare, the second student that always caught his notice caused his head to ache.

Anezka Sova could not look more different this evening then she had a fortnight ago. Back in her most worn pair of tatty jeans and a shirt that could only be described as an eyesore, being neon green with a strange letters spelling POG scrawled across the font in an angular font, the main difference was the complete lack of poise and grooming. It didn't help, that like most students, she was dripping wet. Rather, while others were slightly damp from the rain storms, she was causing a puddle to form under the bench where she sat. Dark hair was plastered against her forehead and neck, but still managed to look disheveled, and she slouched over the table so badly that she practically resembled a question mark.

That night at the Argent's party, he hadn't been sure how to react when she had first approached him. He had sought to escape from the crowds, as being a social recluse was comfortably familiar to him. Others found ostracization uncomfortable and awkward, but it was what he knew best. Yet in the brief, undisturbed moment of her company he found the entire uncomfortable social situation of being at the party ameliorated. What she said held true - to be seen speaking to someone, anyone, made others leave you alone, and for the most part he was more than accustomed to her appalling mannerisms and deplorable attitude. Rather, he thought he was and that nothing that she could say could surprise him any more.

But that night she had leapt over the bar she had spent the previous term setting highly for herself in outrageous statements. Worse yet, it had been the second time that she had made such inappropriate allusions, and while he accepted the fact that she said such suggestive things out of a desire to incite shocked reactions, years having been spent questioning and searching for deeper motivations were ingrained habit and he could not help but second and third guessing the girl.

Such musings occupied him through the feast and most of Dumbledore's announcement about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He had barely even noticed when Alastor Moody finally decided to make his arrival. Other thoughts came and went, a never ending to-do list scrolled through the back of his ever busy mind, but the one question that always recirculated into the forefront of his mind was 'Why'.

The thought plagued him until the students were dismissed and the other professors remained to linger over their uneaten desserts and start-of-term conversations. Aurora Sinistra, seated next to him, knew better than to attempt small talk with him, and instead returned to her conversation with Professor Sprout, who sat on her other side. McGonagall sat on his other side and seemed far more intent on discussing the Tournament with Dumbledore and Moody then to exchange pleasantries with him, so he, without ceremony, excused himself after a short interval of sitting in silence.

He had allowed just enough time for the student body to have arrived into their common rooms and the Entrance Hall was abandoned except for a few house elves who had surfaced from the kitchen to mop up the puddles left by Peeves' water balloons.

He crossed quickly and was almost to the enclosed stairs to the lower levels, when he heard a heavy oak door creak open and clink shut. It was one of the side doors, that led to a quiet side courtyard that was nestled between two wings of the castle. Suddenly, a small figure appeared behind him, also making her way towards the lower stairs, being followed by a house-elf, mopping up the soggy tracks she left.

She nearly would have run into him, so little attention was she paying to her path, had he not turned and extended his hand, blocking the collision by gripping her shoulder. "Ten points for tracking water and mud through the castle, Miss Sova! How are you still wet?" Anezka looked up at her professor and an impish smirk crossed her face and he could tell a vastly inappropriate comment was forming in her mind. He denied her the opportunity to say it. "How have you not dried out by now?"

"Weeell . . ." She drew out the word, the way she always did when she was about to embark on the most ludicrous of reasons. "Would you believe that I jumped into the lake to rescue a first year Gryffindor that fell out of his boat?"

"No."

"Well, in that case, it's like this. Course it's raining, so we all got pretty moist waiting for the carriages. We were all trying to cluster under the overhang at the station, but there isn't that much room, and as I was the only one not wearing designer clothes and as I was already on the twin's shit list, I got pushed out from underneath. Then, getting into the carriage, I tripped and skidded through a puddle that was like, seriously, four feet deep." As if to reference the validity of the story, she motioned to the jeans which had streaks of mud as well as being still damp. "After that, I took a water balloon right in the right tit once we got to the castle. . ." She winced in remembered pain and clutched at her chest and it was now, for the first time that Snape noticed that the offensively green shirt clung to her and that it was, by virtue of being soaked, practically transparent.

Before he could stop himself, he noticed black with a pink ruffle was her undergarment of choice, and the fact that he had looked shook him. Years of teaching, without having once seen a single unmentionable of any student, and now this. He cleared his throat and interrupted her brusquely. "That was hours ago Miss Sova. I have yet to hear a real reason as to why you are now still looking like a drowned kneazle." He tried to look anyway but directly at her, but also didn't know how to look at all intimidating when not glaring with hatred at someone.

"It's still raining." She said as if it was painfully obvious. He growled in frustration, his fingers digging deeper into her shoulder. "I stepped out to get some fresh air in one of my lungs."

"Only one?"

She smiled again. "The other one was otherwise occupied."

At this point he let go of her and opened his palm to her. "Give them to me." Surprisingly she didn't argue as she pulled a few rolled up papers out of her back pocket.

"There's no rule against it you know."

"I will create one." He snarled, then dismissed her.

With a laugh she turned and walked away, and, regretfully, Snape realized that he had to follow her the same way.


	36. Imperfect

"Good morning Professor Snape." Severus had barely laid a hand on the back of his usual seat at the head table in the great hall, before he was greeted, the first morning of term. He looked to see who was addressing him and found himself shocked that it was Charity Burbage. The Muggle Studies professor always seemed to shy away from any kind of interaction with him. She seemed to have bought into the rumors and the intimidating manners, and Snape had never felt the need to change that opinion. The fact that she was now striking up a conversation, before he could even eat breakfast seemed very brave of her. He nodded curtly at her then sat, hoping that perhaps she was just trying to be pleasant and that she didn't actually want anything. "If you could spare a few moments, I would greatly appreciate your advice about one of your students."

Carefully, yet firmly placing the tea cup back on the saucer he had just picked it up from, he finally fully looked at his colleague. "Who is it, and who is accusing them of bullying them now."

"Oh, it's nothing of the sort." She laughed a little, but then interpreted his expression to mean that it was far too early in the morning for laughter. "It's just that, well . . ." She seemed too embarrassed to say what was on her mind, but then pushed on. "Well, it's just that she is taking my class at all. It concerns me a bit."

"I wouldn't be concerned if I were you. Whichever third year it is will, without doubt, not be able to handle the criticisms of others in the House and will drop it by next year." He said this calmly and in a matter of fact tone. He wasn't going to sugarcoat the fact that for the most part, no student in Slytherin would be caught dead in Burbage's class. It would be an insult to the woman's modicum of intelligence to try.

"She's actually a seventh year, Anezka." She didn't notice the slight twitch that caused Snape's butter knife to clank against his plate. "She took the course last year too, and I assumed as much as you did. That it was an odd whim she had - she does seem to have those." This statement received no rebuttal from Snape. "But she is signed up to be in my class again this term. It's not that her grades aren't good. Well, that is when she can be bothered to not fall asleep in class, her grades are very good, some of the best in her year."

"Then I fail to see the problem, other than her poor attitude and participation in the class, which, unfortunately we have all been suffering from. If I could help you with that I would not have the same problems myself." Again, embarrassment seemed to be holding Charity back, but she pressed onwards.

"Well, I can't help but question her motivation in taking the course."

"No doubt she is looking for an easy O on her Newts." Once again, the woman's honesty was met with an equal, but far more blunt variety. The comment clearly hit a sore spot, but Professor Burbage glossed it over, and mostly managed to not hide her brief frown.

"You may be partially correct - she does seem to have a very clear understanding of Muggle life . . ." He wanted to point out that the fact that she had lived amongst muggles for many years might have something to do with that, but he didn't want to encourage the woman to keep talking. Not only was he not accustomed to conversation over his toast and tea, he didn't particularly cherish having a conversation about a student that he was already trying his hardest to not think about.

"But if that is the case, why does she often take on more work than I require." This did give Snape pause. Even in his own class, a subject that she clearly excelled at and had a passion for, she never did more than the assigned work, not that he would be so foolish as to actually give a grade to unassigned work. It was very unlike her to put in more effort than was needed. The fact that she embodied the idea of 'work smarter, not harder' was one of the few traits he admired about her.

Before he could ponder the fact that he had just used the term 'admired' in relation to Miss Sova, Charity continued her prattling. "For example, for our final projects last year the students were to do an essay on a piece of Muggle literature they had been reading throughout the year. They were to write about the plot and the themes, how they can be applied to Magical life, etc. They were only assigned four pages. She turned in twelve. And all twelve pages were very . . . intense. I feel like she has read the book she chose before."

"Again, I am failing to see how this really has anything to do with me. The student happens to be in Slytherin, that is my misfortune. She happens to be long winded when it comes to discussing trivial fiction and that is your misfortune."

The woman finally seemed at her wit's end trying to get the advice she sought from Severus. "Please, Professor, would you mind terribly reading over the report she wrote? I've been obsessing over it all summer holiday and I really need someone's fresh perspective on it and I can think of no one better."

With a resigned sigh, knowing that the woman would most likely not take no as an answer, he gave a nod and an eye roll. "Very well. Have it to me by no later than dinner tonight. This will be the only night of the year that I won't be busy correcting my own returned schoolwork."

"Thank you . . . Severus." She paused before trying his name, and had to swallow a startled chirp when she heard him huff angrily at her use of it. "I will have one of the prefects take it to your classroom." She said, then turned to say her good-mornings to Professor Sinistra.

Making a summary sweep of the table full of his students, he couldn't help but notice the scene being caused by a yelp and a clatter towards the far end of the benches. Being able to hazard a guess what - or rather, whom - was causing the disturbance, he wasn't all surprised to see Anezka pulling herself up off the floor. Not being able to hear the conversation, all he could surmise was that she had tripped over her shoe laces as if she was a toddler. This was confirmed when he saw the dark haired Argent twin cast a knotting charm at her classmate's feet.

Settling into a seat, Anezka began to absentmindedly charm some cream and sugar into a cup of coffee with one hand, while the other scribbled in a small journal. Her attentiveness to her writing caused him to be suspicious. She hadn't been to any class yet so she had no late homework to be working on, and he could think of no other reason for her to be putting effort into a project over breakfast.

The teasing laughter that haunted him pealed quickly in his mind, telling him that he really was too suspicious and that the poor girl could not catch a break with him, and he would be suspicious of her no matter what she did.

* * *

After her less than graceful entrance, Anezka found a seat between Jade and Gretchen, and immediately set to her self-assigned task. The small, leather bound journal she had been writing in on the train was now sitting in front of her and her brow furrowed over it as much now as it had been the previous evening.

"Tournament or not, this year is going to be absolutely wretched without Quidditch." Jade whinged slightly, pausing from picking apart a croissant.

Anezka's small nose went even more upturned then it naturally was. "You are telling me! My sales are looking at a forty-five percent decrease because of it." She was crunching the numbers and was very displeased with the projections.

"Aw, I imagine that there won't be as much need for bruise salve." Onyx chimed in, sympathetically.

"Christ!" Coffee sloshed all over Nezza's hand as she heard this and she twitched angrily. "I hadn't even accounted for that drop in sales! That was just the Felix Felicis the teams won't be needing anymore."

"Which team has been cheating by using Liquid Luck?" Jade gasped, delightfully shocked.

"Pfft . . . you'd be better off asking which one doesn't. Slytherin started it to get the edge over Gryffindor. Gryffindor figured that if Slytherins already broke the rules, they are allowed to also, although admittedly, not the entire team partakes, or even knows. Ravenclaw then found out and went all mind over matter about the issue and decided that it was alright because if they were all using Felix, the effects would negate each other and it was the only way it would become fair again. The Hufflepuff team was the only one that stood on principle and refused to buy in. Said it was cheating and they didn't want to win that way,"

"Is that why you were always rooting for them last year?" Nezza nodded, mouth full off oatmeal. "Yeah. I figured they have to be pretty damn good to be keeping up at all with a bunch of potioned-out, doping cheats."

"You know, some people would give them the leg up by not selling their opponents the potion in the first place."

"Those people don't have a business to run."

"Well, we better hurry up or we will be late for Transfiguaration." Jade said, pushing back her plate and making a move to stand, not even noticing Anezka pause before even being able to take her first bite of baked beans on toast. She, along with Onyx and Gretchen also stood, although she was the only one who charmed some cling-film around her breakfast and stashed it in her bag.

As they all walked down the centre aisle of the hall, towards the door, she felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her neck. Glancing casually over her shoulder, she noticed Snape staring at her. Last night had been the first time she had encountered him since the ball at the Argents'. He hadn't been in attendance at the Quidditch World Cup, and while his name had been on the invitation list for the post-game party, she highly doubted he would have attended, even if the party hadn't been cancelled.

In the last fourteen days, she had thought a lot about that interlude with him under the stairs. She still didn't know why she had said what she did - any more than she ever knew her own motivation for half of the things that flew out of her mouth, bypassing her brain entirely. Worse still, was when she had called him a 'looker' in front of Jade and Onyx" But said it she had, and after years of attempts, she had quit trying to self-analyze, giving it up as a lost cause, and instead preferred to question his reactions.

Never once, in the entire exchange, had he told her to leave. Never had he implied that her company was any more tedious than anyone else and the only time the masterfully masked, yet obvious to those familiar with it, look of complete annoyance and anger didn't flash in his dark eyes until her awful grandmother showed up. Eleanor Myriddan was enough to make anyone miserable, so that didn't much signify. Most telling of all, though, was his reaction. She couldn't quite tell if it was shock, amusement, disgust, or . . . embarrassment. Perhaps a combination of all of the above.

By now, the girls had reached McGonagal's classroom and Nezza had collapsed into her regular seat from the year before, and had already taken up her half slouched position of trying to make it appear that she was paying attention. It had certainly been a combination of all, embarrassment not being the least. And there had been a similar reaction when she was getting yelled at by him the previous evening. Embarrassment is what confused her. Sure, having a student be so cheeky must be a bit unsettling, but he's been teaching for over ten years, surely some student must have gotten a crush on him at some point, despite him being a mean, standoffish, prick. There was no accounting for teenaged girls hormones, and while he certainly wasn't classically good looking, he was no Quasimodo either, and there were girls who were never to be on the cover of Playwizard themselves that certainly wouldn't pass him up.

"Miss Sova, perhaps you could answer the question?" Professor McGongal's harrowing voice knocked Anezka back into reality and she immediately went into defensive mode.

"I need to go to the loo." She said instantly, realizing that she had no clue what question she was supposed to be answering.

* * *

"I understand the Professor Lupin deviated from standard curriculum last year and went over the Unforgivable curses, is that correct?" Professor Moody had barely said hello to his students, and certainly didn't bother to introduce himself, but he was already getting enthusiastic responses to his question. "Although, I would hazard to say that he only went over the theory, never actually bothered showing you what they look like, now did he?"

Again, some said the answers out loud, others shook their heads. "Well, that's better than most, but it leaves the curriculum for you, rather skint. But don't you worry, I've seen the likes of which is too terrifying and too dark to be put in any school book." An excited shiver went through the class. "This year, we will be going more in depth into the Unforgivables, what they look like, and how to protect yourself against them. After that we will be covering lesser known dark magic and curses."

Gretchen's hand shot up rather quickly at this. "Aren't we supposed to also be covering the Patronus charm this year Professor?" She looked both confused and pleased with herself that she was the only one who noticed this listed in the year's textbook index.

"Patronus charm?" Moody scoffed. "Worried about dementors are you? You trust me, there are far worse things out there to fret about then mere dementors."

Most students seemed impressed to be in the presence of such a strong, revered wizard, who could so glibly shrug off the fear of Dementors as "mere". Anezka, was not so easily star struck. She wouldn't mind learning the Patronus charm, but she also knew it wasn't the only way. The alternative, an outcropping of the art of Occlumency, always seemed a more reliable procedure to her. You might not always be able to focus on something happy enough for a reasonably strong patronus, but if you were strong minded enough and trained enough, you should be able to shield any happiness or other human emotion from the joy-sniffing floating freaks. But once again, Anezka found herself being pulled from her own internal monologue, suddenly discovering she wasn't sure what the rest of the class was talking about.

"So what IS the darkest form of magic, in your opinion, Professor?" Edmund Lamorack, a Slytherin seventh year, who could only ever dream of being a great wizard, dark or otherwise, seemed more than a little interested.

"Well, if you must know, lad, there is a branch of magic so unreliable, so wild and so violent that even if the user intends to do good with it, the results are often catastrophic and tragic." Moody shuddered and shook his head, while the class waited with baited breath. "Even I have never . . . seen many wizards stupid enough to attempt a dark curse or spell using Imperfect Magic."

"What's Imperfect Magic?" A tall, ginger Hufflepuff who shared their class asked, so entranced and excited that he forgot to raise his hand.

"What's Imperfect Magic you ask? Well, if you are asking that, I guess you wouldn't know that any spell or charm," Moody paused and flicked his wand, charming a grindylow to shoot out of the tank that it was swimming in and to start floating through the air. "Or curse," Again he flicked his wand and suddenly the creature burst into flames. "That every Witch or Wizard uses is called 'Perfect Magic'. Perfect magic comes from within us. It's a naturally born trait, just as birds can fly and fish can breathe underwater. There is nothing we can do to rid ourselves of it if we were born with it, just as there is nothing we can do to gain it if we weren't"

Anezka knew the truth of this all too well. She had lost count of the nights spent awake listening to her mother scream at her father, to just cast a spell to make her magical. Likewise, she lost count of the books read, herbs grown, potions taken and countries traveled to in an attempt to find an answer.

"If you have magic, as long as you make an effort to learn how, you can control these skills, use them to your benefit and rely on it. Just as you don't see birds being forced to fly against their will, you will seldom see a grown wizard have bouts of unintentional magic. This is 'Perfect' Magic. Now, there are some that think that Magic is a gene, a genetic mutation, some sort of evolutionary adaptation, that has developed over the millennia and is now handed down through families. But, as history tells us that there have been magical folk as long as there has been a walking, talking muggle, so this seems to be only partially correct. Others feel that magic is just a natural variation within a species, just like there are different colours of the same flowers. There is a third theory. This states that magic, is like an element. It is in the atmosphere, in the earth, it is like an energy. Sometimes creatures are born, having this energy embedded inside of them, sometimes not. But not having it born inside of you, doesn't stop it being in the world around us."

"So . . . Magic is like the Force?" All eyes turned Anezka, confusion crossing all faces, not excluding Moody. "You know, THE FORCE. A long time ago, galaxy far far away, 'Energy field created by all living things, surrounds us and penetrates us, binds the galaxy together'. . . the Force? Han Solo? Chewie . . " Her ramblings slowed, and she ended them with a vain impersonation of a Wookie that just sounded like a drowning Yeti. "You all are pathetic." She shook her head, and slouched back into her seat.

Trying to act as if this interruption never happened, Moody continued. "Imperfect Magic is when one tries to tap into the untamed magic of the universe rather than the Perfect Magic, born within them."

"Why would anyone want to do that?" The Hufflepuff scoffed, thinking it sounded absolutely silly.

"For the promise of untold depths of power. Many believe that Imperfect Magic could be stronger and you don't have to be a dark wizard to want that."

Now Lamorack's ears perked up. "Then why doesn't everyone use it."

To this, Moody tutted and shook his head. "It's wild, that is why! Perfect magic is something you can control. Imperfect magic has a will of it's own, and seldom will do anyone's bidding. Others, that might be egotistical or stupid enough to think that they could harness this power, will avoid using is because they dislike the non-exclusive nature of it. Anyone can tap into Imperfect Magic."

Jade's nose wrinkled. "Even Muggles?"

"Even Muggles."

"That is impossible!"

"Is it?" Moody scoffed at this statement from Edmund. "Tell me boy, ever heard of VooDoo?"

"You mean that rubbish stuff from all those stupid Muggle films? Zombies and the lot?" No one dared ask what a pure-blood snob had been doing that he knew anything about muggle films, because Moody's laughter was so divisive it was startling.

"We live in a world where Inferi are a documented fact, but you want to believe Zombies are a muggle make-believe? What's the difference between what you know of the muggle Zombie tales and an Inferius?" The boy's smug smile dimmed quickly. "Now, I am not saying they are the same thing. It stands to reason that if it was a different kind of magic that summoned them, they wouldn't be the same kind of creature. But of the fifty-some noted accounts of so-called 'zombie' outbreaks in the muggle world for the last three thousand years, only five are documented cases of Inferi. And Voodoo and Zombies aren't the only odd occurrence. There are any number of people in the muggle world that claim the title witch for themselves. Usually, the worst thing they can do is smother people with too much incense or own too many black cats, and making odd stews of random ingredients in little cauldrons. But there are some, not magical born, that can make things happen. The theory of Imperfect Magic states that anything they can accomplish is because they are drawing power off the universal magic."

"But if they are only trying to do good things, how can this be Dark Magic?" Gretchen was so thoroughly confused by all this lecture he nose was permanently wrinkled.

Moody tried to curb the annoyed sigh, but didn't have much luck, only managing to smother it by taking a swig from a flask that was sitting on his desk. "It's true that in Perfect magic, intention has something to do with whether or not a spell works - they only way to make an Unforgivable Curse work correctly is to mean it, to poor malice and ill-will into them . . ."

"Too feel the hate flow through you?" Nezza quipped with a sardonic grin. No one laughed at this allusion but her, and she didn't mind. She felt vindicated in her original assessment that magic, as Moody was describing it bore striking similarities to something out of a film that was as old as she was.

Again, she was ignored by Moody, who just went on with his explanation. "Imperfect magic is different because no matter what you 'intend' the outcome is completely beyond your control. You could work a charm to make someone no longer ill, and the charm would work itself out by killing the person who was ill. If they are dead, they are no longer ill, so the charm worked, but you intention was to make them better. That is why it is called 'imperfect'. Imagine the terrible repercussions if someone wanted to work a dark spell!"

"Well, if it can do dark when you want it to do good, why couldn't it maybe do good if you had meant it for bad?" Anezka once again made an observation that she felt was obvious, but all it earned her was more dumbfounded stares, as if she had just said the most unfathomable thing.

* * *

Snape had forgone lunch, preferring instead to enjoy the hour of quiet and solitude. He had Seventh year double potions after that and he dreaded the class. His mood had been soured by a second year spilling his entire cauldron of Swelling solution all over himself and four other students, and now, trying to teach his last class how to brew Veritaserum was the furthest thing that he wanted to do.

There was about another half hour until the class was scheduled to start, so he was more than a touch irritated when a student appeared in the abandoned classroom and approached his desk."Professor Snape, sir?"

"What." He growled angrily, looking up from the book that he was reading, to notice that it was the sixth year Hufflepuff Prefect, Diggory, standing in front of the desk.

"Professor Burbage asked me to bring this to you, sir." In classic Hufflepuff fashion the boy remained respectful despite Snape's less than enthusiastic reception. Silently, the tall boy handed a bundle of papers to the professor, then wished him a good day and left.

Severus had completely forgotten that he had agreed to look at Sova's essay for Charity Burbage, and seeing her appallingly sloppy handwriting made his temples pound. He tossed the papers aside, deciding that he was not prepared to deal with her thoughts on some book, just yet. He had yet to figure out why he had agreed in the first place. Instead, he turned his attention back to the treatise on the uses of Dragon Blood in brewing. The time flew by far too quickly and students started meandering their way into his classroom, still jovial and overly-social from their free time during the afternoon meal. Two hours in his classroom would certainly destroy that, and he didn't hesitate to start the process. "Our first class hasn't even started, but you all seem content to be late and disruptive. You will take your seats quickly, and quietly." He said, standing from his desk.

The students complied fairly quickly, except for Anezka, who had wandered in last and was randomly crooning some muggle song to herself as she walked. "Miss Sova!" The girl looked up startled to hear herself addressed. "As all of the earmuffs in the castle are requisitioned by the greenhouses I demand that you cease that noise before all of our eardrums are punctured."

Of all things, the disturbingly strange girl smiled where others would frown, or fight back tears. She dropped her bag to the floor then kicked it casually under the table and collapsed into the chair. With a few wand movements, Snape had the instructions for the days lessons were scrawled across the chalkboard, and with a few barked orders, he set the students to their work. He knew most would struggle with Veritaserum. It was not an easy potion and required careful timing and a rapt attention, none of which even these NEWT level students had.

He circled the room as the students worked, watching with a hawk-like glare, never offering assistance but being more than ready with the criticisms, all the while, listening to all the conversations going on amongst the young ones. Amazingly, despite the potion's complexity, most of the time passed without incident, but Severus was not so foolish as to breath easily just yet. The last phase of the brewing, before it had to ferment for a month, was the most complicated, and often where catastrophe hit. As he reached the back of the room, he heard a slow, lazy voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "You see, Rossi," Anezka was slowly dropping Deer's Tongue Seed into the bubbling cauldron whilst her partner was crushing the copal resin in a mortar. "The trick to making a great potion is timing . . . Oh bloody fuck! It's burning, it's burning. Quick, quick, hand me the silver spoon so I can stir it! SHIIIIT!" The last word was said loud enough that the entire class looked up startled.

Snape arrived behind the girls shoulder just as the pewter cauldron's bottom cracked, leaking the liquid into the flame. Luckily, nothing in the brew was combustible, so he contented himself to observe for a moment. He had never seen such a mishap befall the girl and he found himself strangely curious to see what her reactions would be. With a quick dexterity, she extinguished the flame with a flick of the wand, and summoned a large sea sponge from her bag on the floor and used it to absorb the oozing potion, all the while taking no notice of the Professor lurking behind her. It took Rossi tugging on her jumper sleeve for her to finally take her attention away from her mess. "Yes? Can I help you? Nothing to see here. . . " She tried to sound nonchalant as she hid the sponge from Snape's view. He waited for a moment, one eyebrow raised until suddenly she hissed and tossed the sponge onto the table. "Damn that is HOT!"

"Finish cleaning this mess up, and plan on staying after class until you have brewed the potion correctly. Rossi, you are exempt, as clearly she botched this assignment on her own."


	37. Calm

"Make sure the table is completely dry. I don't want a watermark on it." Snape was really just trying to be punitive as the work tables in the potions lab were a good century old and had so many nicks, stains and carved initials that no one, least of all him, would really notice or care about one more blemish.

"Sir, yes sir." Anezka replied with a false sense of respect from across the room, where he had her manually scrubbing the table that bore the brunt of her potions debacle. "After that would you like me to lick the floors clean?"

"No." He said placidly, not even sparing the girl a glance, instead keeping his eyes glued to the copy of the Daily Prophet he hid behind. "With your personal hygiene skills, I don't want whatever bacteria that might be running amok on your tongue to contaminate the whole room like that."

Again, the infuriating girl laughed! Snape could not wrap his mind around a person, even worse a woman, laughing at his best barbed insults. Worse still, after her brief, indelicate snort, a barb as strong as his flew out of her mouth. "This coming from a man who thinks shampoo is a fascist conspiracy."

He gently lowered the paper along it's center crease, and stared at the girl for a moment. She was just going about her business of resetting the workstation to re-brew the potion as if nothing had been said. This composure seemed at odds with her usual frantic attitude, and while usually he found himself to be rather fractious when dealing with students after hours he was surprised to asses himself to be fairly placid, despite being in her company. He didn't know what had changed since forty minutes ago when his head pounded and he felt on the brink of anger every moment.

While she fired up the cauldron and started mixing ingredients, he reached the end of the news, and for want of something to keep up the appearance of being occupied, he picked up the stack of pages that had been delivered previously.

The title, scrawled in the top margin of the muggle note-book paper, almost had him laughing aloud. "_A modern insight onto Machiavelli's 'The Prince, - or- How To Rule The World For Dummies."_ If her title was that long winded, he feared for the brevity of the rest of the paper. Sparing her a quick glance before digging into the first paragraph, he was appeased to see her very diligently preparing a fresh batch of ingredients. Assured that she would be occupied for at least a solid fifteen minutes, he continued to read.

_"Contrary to what the modern interpretationists say about good old Nick Machiavelli, you have to give props to a man who starts his treatise on political machinations by calling out the toadying and general bribery that rulers and men of power have to put up with from their followers. That being said, he is also completely honest and says that he too has a very important gift to give the 'prince' in an effort to vie for some appreciation. It's the most important thing he could think to give - knowledge." _ As far as opening paragraphs went, it was certainly attention grabbing, but Snape wasn't sure if it was because it was a well written hook or if it was just a morbid curiosity to see if the rest of the essay was as much of a verbal train wreck.

_"Now, before all the Ravenclaws who might be reading this get up on their overly-intellectual high horses of 'knowledge is power' , Machiavelli points out that TRUE knowledge isn't just found in books, but is rather an equal balance of studies AND real life experience. Often times in modern society, both magical and muggle, we over emphasize one or the other this just shouldn't be - not if you don't want to fail miserably at life."_

Snape found this observation to be startlingly true. While he valued all the knowledge to be found in the stacks of books he owned, he knew they weren't worth a damn if one didn't know how to apply them. He also found that the things he learned from other people saved his life more times than textbooks had.

Suddenly, he heard a frustrated sound and looked up in time to see Anezka tugging at her hair. "Seriously, Snape! What am I do wrong? I just started trying to heat the Avalonian Well Water and it's ALREADY boiling. I am pretty sure that is what messed me up last time, but I can't get it to slowly heat."

Putting the papers down, he looked at her for a moment and pondered how exactly he was going to disparage her need for assistance, but no words came to him, and instead he found himself standing and crossing the room to stand by her side.

She started speaking again before he made any real observations. "I've tried to adjust the heat, repositioning the height and lateral location of the cauldron. The early spike in the temperature is the only thing I can think of that made the potion turn south in the end and it just refuses to regulate. He continued to loom over her and watch her try to prepare other ingredients all the while attempting to control what was already over the flame. "What do I have to do?!"

"Did you dust the bowl of the cauldron with powdered lovage?"

"Yes! And I rubbed chatting toad bile on the sides before hand so the lovage would stay evenly coated."

Snape was quietly impressed that she had done so. It certainly hadn't been in the instructions, but was a well executed adaption. He certainly couldn't let her see this though. "Well, the inferior quality of the cauldron will certainly not help your cause."

Her shoulders slumped in dejection and she shook her head. "Dammit. I knew I should have brought my full set of with me."

"I wouldn't allow you to use them. One must learn to brew the recipe without a myriad of gadgets and professional equipment before they earn the right to use the advanced techniques." With that he started to walk away, but looked over his shoulder as he walked. "Raise the temperature, rather then lower, and allow it to come to a rapid boil, but don't allow more than half an ounce to boil off, then shut off the heat. If you have pre-prepped most of your ingredients properly, by the time you ready to mix them in, the cauldron will have cooled to the appropriate temperature."

As he sat back down, he realized that he never told a single student this trick and none had ever actually figured it out. He also never told them it was nearly impossible to brew a satisfactory veritaserum in a pewter cauldron without doing this. Why he told her now confused him and he decided to hide himself once again in the essay. He lost himself quickly, finding a humorous wisdom in her explanation of the much maligned Machiavellian theory.

_"He talks a lot about the idea of rulers being feared or loved, of the concepts of cruelty and mercy, and he dares to bring up the idea that sometimes cruelty is the right answer, or as the modern poetic genius of Nick Lowe put it, you've got to be cruel to be kind. Nick Machiavelli of course backs up his theory with historic examples of times where rulers made choices so as to be well liked and considered merciful, only to have the destruction of entire cities ensue, rather then backing it up with a catchy chorus like Lowe did, and because of that, everyone ignores this as reasonable fact and decries Machiavelli as a sadistic, cruel, heartless politico. Yes, it's true, that he told the prince that he was writing to that if you can't be both loved AND feared, it is better to choose to be feared. The part everyone likes to forget is that he also stressed the fact that you can not let those you rule fear you to the point of hatred - a lesson that a dark wizard who recently attempted world domination would have been behooved to listen too if he seriously wanted to win."_

The reference to the Dark Lord was not what gave Snape pause on this, but rather a rare bit of self introspection. He believed fear was an important tool to be used in a position of authority, and that cruelty was part of a learning curve, as the world would show no shortage of it after students no longer saw him, but the idea that to effectively use both of these things, one must not push them too far never struck him. Without a doubt, every student in the school, even the sycophantic 'good' children, hated him. If he was being completely honest with himself, so did most of the staff. There were only two souls in the castle that seemed neither to fear or hate him. One was Dumbledore and the other . .. he looked up to see the other hold an aluminum pan with a foil cover over the flame that her cauldron had been sitting on.

"What . . . are you doing?" He didn't stand this time, and his tone was laced with malice. He reminded himself that he enjoyed being feared and wanted to redouble his efforts to take her off that list of two.

She looked up and smiled, an unfamiliar smile. It was almost friendly. "Well, I figured since you are making me miss my dinner, you wouldn't mind if I made myself some popcorn." She held up a cardboard disc, that bore the words Jiffy-Pop across it. " I mean, I have to wait to put this back on the heat until it turns a dark shade of aquamarine, according to my notes." She nodded towards the steaming cauldron then shook the tin, just as some popping noises started and the folded foil top started to expand.

He almost allowed his jaw to drop, but instead contained himself to an angrily arched brow. "This is unacceptable."

"Oh, don't worry, I will gladly share some with you, provided you can scrounge up a cup of tea for us." She clearly ignored what he had said, or had misinterpreted it to mean something else.

Too furious to respond again he went back to his reading forgetting for a moment that the paper and the girl making snack foods in his potions lab were the same person._ "Many call Machivelli two-faced. In fact, his name has become a synonym for a cunning, scheming, and unscrupulous person. He get's this because he encourages the idea that if it is going to be used against you, a person should not keep their word, because he is honest and says that while everyone wants to love the oh-so-noble and virtuous rulers, it is often it's the cunning, slightly amoral leaders that often times accomplish more. The whole idea of 'the end justifies the means', while not used verbatim, is often attributed to him and this work. People are offended by this idea, but they are stupid. Sometimes, to perform a little evil to accomplish something good needs to happen."_ Snape swallowed hard, these words haunting him. There were several more paragraphs on the subject, pointing out various historical wars and political movements that were embraced with gusto as being worthy causes, but he wasn't sure he could tolerate reading them as they all just struck a strange and raw nerve. He had just laid eyes on a paragraph he felt he might be able to get through with a steady stomach - discussing how a wise ruler needs to accepts the traits of both the bravery of lions and the cunning of foxes - when a large handkerchief tied into an odd bowl shape was placed in front of him, bearing a small heap of fresh popcorn.

"Here you go! Extra buttery. And don't worry, the hanky is clean." Anezka said, then paused. "Mostly," She whispered out of the side of her mouth. "Didn't you make tea yet?" All Snape could muster was a blank stare, as he tried reconciling the verbally unpretentious yet thought provoking author of this essay in front of him, with the strange, quite possibly mentally disturbed girl, who was currently trying to pick a corn kernel out from between her teeth.

She turned and walked away, presumably to check on her potion again, attempting to toss popcorn into the air and catch it in her mouth as she walked, leaving trail of uncaught attempts behind her as she went. Snape was honestly surprised that she didn't trip and kill herself during the whole process, and he went back to the papers, trying to ignore the fact that since her mention of tea, he found himself desperately wanting a cup. He didn't touch the popcorn that was sitting in front of him, but occasionally would look at it skeptically, as if it might have moved or jumped up to bite him.

"Hey, you got another second?" She called across the classroom to him, mouth full.

"No." He said and shuffled about to try and look busy, but there were no assignments to grade, no books to read and he really didn't want her to notice her own writing sitting on his desk. He finally spared a glance to see her still staring at him, as if she was waiting for him to give up the attempt. "Well, what?" He snarled.

"Can you just tell me if this is looking right? I think I got it, but I just want to be sure before I start stirring in the jobberknoll feathers."

That was twice in one night that she actually asked for assistance. Snape wasn't sure which was a more rare occurrence, that a student would casually ask for his expertise without nearly wetting themselves doing so, or him actually indulging their need for help. He pushed his chair away from his desk with a martyred sigh and crossed the room.

He arrived at her workstation and cast a quick glance at the cauldron. "You added the seeds too quickly, and they burned off. Let it sit off the flame for a full minute, then add three more seed, pausing for a count of twenty between each."

She moved the cauldron to follow his instruction and while she let the potion sit, she started scribbling notes on all the advice he had given her in the margins of her text book's pages, and act that made Snape slightly nostalgic for his own school days. As if she had been counting in her head, just as he had been doing, Anezka placed the cauldron back on the flame in exactly sixty seconds, then looked up at him after dropping the first seed in. "So, you said that standard pewter isn't a good cauldron to brew this in? What gauge and material do you recommend if you don't want to have to do all this fuss?"

A silent smirk spread across Snape's face. "Well, something like the 'Respiraţie şi sânge' cauldron made in Eastern Europe is always an option. It withstands very high heat and has charms to prevent scorching." He didn't know why he brought the cauldron that still sat unused on his mantel in his quarters up at this time. It had been months and he had always chosen to ignore it and never mention it to her.

Casting an inscrutable, sideways glance at him after dropping in the second seed, she also hid a small smile. "Those are mad hard to come by. You would be one lucky bugger if you have one of those."

"Yes, well, some idiot left one behind in her before Christmas last year. Quiet foolish of them to leave it behind, wouldn't you say." He drawled slowly.

The third seed was dropped into the brew. "Well, I imagine if they left it behind they weren't too worried about it. Chances are they could get another pretty easy." She brushed her hands as if to remove any remaining ingreidents, then turned to face Snape face to face, and leaned against the desk. "That's got to simmer for twenty minutes before I can put it in the fermentation bottles. How about **I** make us that cup of tea, yeah?"

As she charmed some water into a clean cauldron and set it over a second fire, and summoned two chipped beakers from her bag, Snape returned to his desk and buried his nose in the first book to come to hand. He flipped through the first few pages whilst she managed to find two tea bags from the vault like treasure trove she carried in knapsack form.

What seemed like a moment later, she stood in front of him holding the two steaming mugs. "Now you can have Earl Grey in 'I Heart Paris' or some PG Tips in the mug shaped like Santa's head, but what has a missing nose. They are both black as I don't carry cream or sugar in my bag."

He pointed to Earl Grey, and she handed it to him silence and settled herself down in a seat near to the front of the room, where he sat. Taking a sip of the tea, she summoned her text book from the back of the room and continued both writing and reading her marginal notes.  
An odd calm and quiet settled over the room, him with his book, her with her notes and occasional checking of her simmering brew, and Snape, for once, felt at rest. No students were bothering him, no evil lurked over his shoulder, Potter was safely tucked away somewhere in the castle, and he could just sit back and enjoy his reading. Only, for once, he was not alone. The comfort he felt in this would have unsettled him if he had given it more then a passing thought.


	38. Company

Before the excitements of summer had been forgotten, September gave way into October, and the the student's attention became fully enraptured with the imminent arrival of the other two schools and the start of the tournament. Speculation on what they would be like, when they would arrive, and what the tournament was going to entail ran rampant through all the common rooms, and Anezka's dorm-mates were not exempt.

Anezka herself didn't pay it much mind, past trying to concoct new marketing schemes for any possible potion. Gretchen was already trying to figure out how to catch the eye of any potential foreign paramour, while the twins were devising the odds of which school they should bet on to win.

"Well, with not even seeing who the candidates are going to be, my money would have to go for Durmstrang. I hear they are mad strict and delve into the dark arts. That would have to give them the advantage." Jade said as she sat in her favorite arm chair by the fireplace in the common rooms, the day the notice of the visitors pending arrival went up.

Having not really been a part of the conversation prior, Anezka couldn't help but join in with a chuckle, not entirely pulling her attention from she was playing an odd sort of fetch with Harold. "The only thing dark about Durmstrang is the winter. Polar night sucks. So does polar temperatures, for that matter. It's fucking freezing. I don't know what kind of sick parents would let their children go there. Well, other then all my Uncles. . . and my grandparents."

"Your Dad went to Durmstrang?" Onyx's jaw dropped. It had never occurred to her to think that Nezza's father, having been born and raised in Eastern Europe, might not have attended Hogwarts. To this Anezka merely gave a quick jerky nod of her head, as if to say that the answer was obvious. "Is he very skilled at the Dark Arts?" She asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

With a put-upon sigh, Anezka looked up at her classmate with a raised brow. "The only thing my Dad is very skilled at is losing his wand. And his shoes . . . guess I come by that naturally enough." She shrugged, wiggled her unclad toes, and went back to flicking the small ping-pong ball across the floor, and laughing as the small spiky creature went chasing after it and pushed it back towards her with his nose.

"Wait, so if your Dad didn't go to Hogwarts, how on earth did he meet your Mum?" Gretchen asked, her understanding limited and international love affairs being on the top of her mind.

With an eye roll, Nezza started to chew on her thumbnail. "That is a story better to be told by someone who gives more of a damn and has a stronger stomach than I do." She growled, then flicked the ball a little more forcefully than necessary, sending it flying under a nearby couch. This earned her a dissatisfied grunt and a mean look from Harold. "Sorry." She said to him, but Gretchen seemed to take this as a comment to her, making the other three laugh a little.

By the time the thirtieth actually arrived, the twin's had money on Durmstrang having the best Champion, but Hogwarts winning, Gretchen had raised her hems and lowered her necklines and Anezka still hadn't made her bottom line look any better. They gathered in the front of the castle, awaiting their visitor's arrival with the rest of the school, all worried about their own issues.

"Oh, MERLIN! It is so cold out here." Gretchen whined from where they all stood, seven rows from the front of the crowd.

"We told you to bring your cloak. You didn't listen." Jade wrapped some of the excess of her wool shawl around her shoulders just to taunt her roommate who stood shivering in her recently altered uniform and no outer garment.

Anezka didn't take her eyes from the crowd, but reached into her bag and pulled out a small silver flask. "Nine sickles for a sip."

"What is it?" Gretchen sounded sceptical, but desperate.

"Um. . . warming potion?" She didn't sound convinced with her own answer, but Anezka didn't act surprised when Gretchen took the flask, tried a swig and nearly choked. "No refunds or returns" Anezka quipped, noticing some amber liquid being coughed out of Gretchen's mouth.

"It's just firewhiskey!" Gretchen seemed entirely miffed by this as she was rubbing the moisture off her lips and still gagging.

"Yeah, and going rate at the Hog's Head for a shot is eight sickles twelve nuts, but I can't make change."

At this point, most of the crowd was enraptured by the appearance of a large flying carriage on the horizon. As it swooped in to land, the draft of it's movement wafted over the students, and Gretchen couldn't contain another shiver, and reached for the flask she had shoved back into Anezka's hands. "I will pay you after the feast."

"I don't usually do credit, but I know where you sleep." The words almost sounded more ominous for how casually she said them, as Anezka started to indulge in her choice of ways to stay warm. She tried to obscure the cigarette from general view by cupping her hand around it, and made sure to blow the smoke downwards.

After another several minutes, the Beauxbatons students and their surprisingly large Headmistress filed through the throng of Hogwarts greeters and made their way into the castle, shivering delicately as they went.

"Oh, that blond boy, he's rather cute!" Onyx said with a small sigh, not nearly as boy-crazed as Gretchen was.

Anezka repressed a laugh. "Boy? By the looks of them, I thought they were an all girl's school.

"Well, Nez, we can't all have your taste in men." Jade said with a wicked grin and a pointed look towards where Snape stood amongst the other teachers, making Anezka's face darken a little.

"What? What's Anezka's taste in men? I didn't know Anezka liked men!" Gretchen, desperate to be in on the joke, and missing Jade's telling glance, took a break from gingerly sipping out of the flask to try and get an explanation. Luckily, for the sake of Anezka's sanity, Jade prefered to keep Gretchen excluded more than she wanted to tease her friend about the strange pick of men she had exhibited over the summer, and so Gretchen went on in ignorance, as both twins maintained their silence.

By now, the crowds were going wild with their murmuring once more, as a ship had appeared on the lake. The murmuring turned into loud and excited voices quickly as the passengers disembarked and walked their way up to the castle.

"Is that Viktor Krum?" Gretchen asked, right around the same time every other Hogwart's student was, only her words were just starting to slur, slightly.

"You know, I think it is. Maybe you should shout his name loudly like everyone else, so maybe he will notice you and fall madly in love."

She did one better then was suggested to her by Jade, and started calling his name while jumping up and down to be seen over the crowd, of which many of the other girls were doing the same. Only, Gretchen's ample bosom was threatening to burst out of the plunging v-neck that her uniform jumper had been transfigured into.

While every other living creature, under the age of 30 and being even remotely female in gender, had eyes only for the Quidditch star, Anezka looked for a different face in the crowd, and she smiled a wry smirk when she caught a glimpse of it's familiar, and familial profile.

"Hei Valentine! Du-te înapoi în România, vă fata de cur!" Her telling him to go back to Romania, and calling him an ass face, caused the boy walking a step behind and to the right of Karkaroff and Krum to look around for who called to him.

He fell back for a minute, letting his headmaster and his peer to be a good five paces in front of him before he called back, "Mama ta e o curvă, Anezka!" He yelled and kept walking.

"Is that a traditional Romanian greeting or something?" Onyx asked, just managing to un-bulge her eyes, and pick her tongue up off the pavers, now that Krum had gone inside.

"Well, I guess it is in our family, but I really wouldn't recommend trying to impress Mugwump Căpreanu at your Dad's next International Confederation Dinner Party by telling him that his Mum is a whore."

"Thanks for the warning." Onxy frowned, clearly upset that she had started to practice saying the word over and over in her head for that very reason.

"Wait! You are related to him?" Gretchen hadn't taken Krum's departure for the castle as a queue to stop drooling, but rather to start drooling over the other male members of the Durmstrang group as they passed through to the castle doors. Clearly, Anezka's cousin had also caught her now slightly glassy eyes.

Ignoring the question, as it was too stupidly obvious of an answer, Anezka chose instead to lead the way of their small gang into the castle and towards the Great Hall.

Decorated as it was, in it's usual festive ornamentation, Anezka found herself looking around with new eyes, wondering what the visitors, particularly the Durmstrang students thought of such excessive frivolity. They were, by their expressions as they surveyed the room, impressed with it, if the craned necks and wide eyes upon noticing the enchanted ceiling were any indication.

Conversely, the Beauxbatons students, who remained huddled close together, looked around as if they had been exiled to a cave formerly inhabited by the Missing Link's colour blind brother. Their sneers were only hidden by their occasional shivers. The Mediterranean winters on the French Riviera clearly had left them at a loss for how to cope with a Northern Scottish fall frost.

All the Hogwarts natives, warmed enough by being back inside, quickly took their customary seats, eager for the food and for the excitement to begin, while the visitors seemed at a loss of where to go. Anezka couldn't help but ponder how the idea to put up 2 extra tables for the newcomers didn't occur to anyone else.

Slouching over her gold plate, and pondering the relative food-safety of the metallic dish, Anezka was chagrined to realize that Valentine had spotted her at the table. Tapping Viktor Krum on the shoulder, they together lead the way towards the Slytherin side of the room, earning some smug smiles from the underclassmen and some jealous stares from Gryffindors. Luckily for her, her dorm-mates and several other Seventh years had filled in surrounding seats, so her tedious cousin was sitting more with the fourth years, then he was with her. She couldn't help but think such juvenile company suited him, and she appreciated that he was on the other side of the table and five people away from her.

While the overweening, blond Malfoy brat fawned over Krum, all the girls from First to Seventh year were doing their best to attract the boy. Gretchen was the worst of all, intentionally forgetting any and all table manners and was constantly reaching for whatever serving dish was far enough down the table to give Viktor a glance down her blouse. Of course, with the amount of Anezka's whiskey that she had downed, she was mostly succeeding in tipping over bowls of bouillabaisse and drenching her bosom in gravy. Nezza, seeing an opportunity, took advantage of every one's distraction, and loaded a spoon full of steak and kidney pie, with the intention of catapulting it at her cousin. Her aim, however, was about as reliable as her sense of balance and the food instead splattered down the robe of the boy who sat between Valentine and Krum.

As the food was scarfed, conversation between the girls was limited, and as soon as Dumbledore began his speech on the rules and procedures of entry into the tournament, Anezka couldn't help but be a touch bored by it all. She had no intention of entering, had no money riding on it, and wasn't looking to hook up with the winner. The only thing of slight interest to her was that Dumbledore announced his intention to draw an age line around the Goblet to prevent minors from entering. While she was certain even her perfectly crafted aging potions wouldn't fool Dumblerdore's magic, the average buyer had no way of knowing that. She was glad that she had brewed a few extra bottles in the last month, certain that she would be able to sell a few in the next twenty-four hours.

As the meal ended, Karkaroff came to shepherd his charges towards the door, making a point to both toady up to Krum and belittle the poor victim of Anezka's edible propellant for the mess that was down the front of his robes. This poorly disguised favoritism made Anezka wonder what her fate would have been if her Mother had allowed her to go to Durmstrang when she had first turned eleven.

With her devil-may-care attitude, clumsy nature and disregard for respect, chances are Karkaroff would hate her, and only the prestige of her Father's family would keep him from making her the bearer of his worst moods, which were both obvious and legendary. Not that life at Durmstrang seemed anything less than bleak, on a general scale. The singular girl in the party of eight students did seem faintly miserable, but then that could just have something to do with having been stuck on a ship with seven boys and her headmaster for the long journey to Scotland. Looking across the hall, to where her cousin stood, waiting his turn to exit through the hall, she was reminded of the long summer months, being the youngest and only female cousin trapped among the thirteen that ran through her Grandparent's home, and she found herself feeling a certain kinship with this unknown girl.

Despite the remembered agonies, the thought of home stabbed at her, so after telling the twins she would catch up with them in the common rooms, she went galloping after the recently departed students, and caught up with them shortly past the main entrance.

Falling into pace next to Valentine, she had to look up to meet his eyes. "Cum este familia? Mi-e dor toată lumea." She asked quietly, with none of the belligerent tone of her original greeting, hours past.

"Everyone is fine, and misses you as well." He said in very careful and practiced English. "And your pronunciation is still a steaming pile of turd." He ribbed, but just like her, without the level of insult he had flung upon his arrival.

She pulled a smoke from a pocket, and lit up. "Well, at least I don't sound like a cartoon vampire that sells breakfast cereal." She mocked his very thick accent between puffs. "I vant to suck your blaaaaaahd."

"Very amusing . . . not" By now their slow pace had put the two to the back of the small group of students and while the others had reached the lake and were starting to board the ship they lingered.

Taking another drag, then dropping the still smouldering smoke into a puddle and shoving it into the mud with toe of her boot, Anezka brushed enough hair out of her face too look her cousin in the eye. "You're not seriously considering entering this stupid tournament are you? I can't imagine Tanti Miruna being alright with her baby risking life and limb for some galleons. And since when does a Sova suck up to the likes of Karkaroff?"

Sighing deeply, Valentine shook his head. "I am not made for the family business, Anezka. Erdo is very ready to take over leadership after Grandfather and Uncle Casmir, and outdoors life of the colony suits him. Vali will have the business and organization well in hand. By the time there are places found for the rest, there won't be much room for me. I . . . I think I would like to teach. I have enjoyed my time at school, and I always like to learn. I am assisting Karkaroff on this journey, in the hopes that by the time the year ends, I will be able to obtain a position working with him." He paused and gazed over the girl who stood next to him. "What about you? You will leave school this year. What are your plans for when you are done here at Hogwarts?"

She chuckled. "Whatever they are, they don't include teaching, that's for damned sure!" She said, then started to walk back towards the castle, as Valentine continued onto the gangplank to his ship.

"Noapte bună, vărul." He bid goodnight to his cousin before reaching the main deck, and she spared him a backwards glance and a mischievous smile in response.


	39. Conversations

As a small child, I devoured the history books and the tales of the Potter years of Hogwarts, and being the detail addicted personality I was, I begged my mother to tell me what it was like to be at school during those times, especially the night his name was the fourth to come from the Goblet of Fire. Her responses were usually the same, and along the lines of "Potter? He's the one what saved the world, right?"

Such a laissez-faire attitude towards witnessing of history in the making irked my chronicler's soul. I wanted the first hand account I was convinced she could give. It took until I finished with school myself, that I began to realize, that to children and young adults the moderately sized student body seemed, like an entire world of people when you lived amongst them, and that teenagers are inherently, self-absorbed and Harry Potter held no importance in my Mother's world. Not even the generic excitement of the drawing of the Champion's names held an appeal to her. While everyone else waited with baited breath to see slips of paper come fluttering out of the Goblet, she was busy, napping on the couch in the common room, with Harold, curled up on her stomach, also catching up on his beauty rest.

The clamor of students returning after the feast and name drawing stirred her, but only long enough to listen to a breathless retelling of the evening's events, nod in feigned attention, and then drop her head back to the green velvet pillow that was her favorite from all the couches. Her interest in the tournament was done. Her only marketing idea had been to sell aging potions in the pre-dawn hours of that very morning, and she had sold out quickly. Or rather, she sold five and then had to chuck the remaining five bottles out of a fourth story window because Snape was chasing after her and she didn't want to be caught carrying them and be incriminated in both the rule breaking and the side effects the buyers might face.

But even sequestered in her own sphere, Anezka could not ignore the excitement that was buzzing through the school for long. Most events at Hogwarts followed a strange rhythmic ebb and flow. Excitement about something would grow, until the school had worked itself into a passionate frenzy and then slowly, interest would be lost and the next main event would come to the forefront of the general consciousness. Not so during the weeks that followed the naming of the Champions. Just when the she thought the fervor could not get any stronger, some idiot started making badges.

A few days prior to when the first challenge was set to take place, In an attempt to flee the drama of both the tournament and of Gretchen constantly insisting that Anzka introduce her to Valentine, Anezka decided to flee from the lunchroom, Harold perched on her shoulder like a parrot. One of her arms was full of library books, and the other was precariously balancing three cheese sandwiches for her to snack on and a bowl of carrots for the hedgehog. Before she slipped through the door, she spared a quick glance to the table the professors sat at.

Observing that Snape still sat at the table, in his usual spot, she continued on her way. Often, he wasn't the type to linger over his meals, but Anezka had been noticing that ever since the competing schools had arrived, Snape stayed longer, his eyes seldom far from watching Karkaroff's every move. Occasionally, when she had nothing better to worry about, she pondered the reasons for such animosity, but usually she scratched it up to Snape hating and distrusting everyone

She quietly hummed to herself as she slipped through the mostly vacant hallways towards the dungeon levels. She had been skating on thin ice with Snape since the hallway chasing episode and she couldn't afford to be late to his class . . . yet again. Reaching her desk in the dungeon, she unceremoniously dumped her arm loads onto the worktop, and reached up to retrieve Harold from his perch. As the small creature started nibbling on the carrots that had spilled all over the lip of the bowl onto the table, she spread the books out, opening them to the pages she had marked with various slips of paper and an occasional sock, from when she had run out of other book-markers.

She quickly cast a longing glance at all the potion equipment that was neatly stacked in the cupboard at the back of the room, but shook herself sternly and turned back to the work spread in front of her. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she started reading through the marked paragraphs, absentmindedly munching on one of her sandwiches.

The texts in front of her were heavy tomes on the skills required to master both wandless and non-verbal spells. She had just managed to pass the section on Non-verbal spells the year before, and she had been a fair hand at wandless magic since she was a young child, since she had been forbidden from even going near a wand at home. Ever since the incident in the short lived WART club the year before, when Snape had merciless trounced her and publicly made her look the fool for not being better at non-verbal spells, she had been determined to better her abilities at didn't care if the world thought her an idiot, as long as she knew she wasn't.

As she read, she occasionally tried her hand at various spells, usually nothing more complicated than trying to turn the page with a simple hand gesture or trying to warm her sandwich. Just as she started feeling confident enough to try and summon one of Harold's carrots to her, she was startled by the dungeon's door flinging open with a loud clang and the carrot went flying halfway across the room and smacked the new comer squarely in the face, earning her an almost chuckle-like grunt from her pet and a low angry growl from the victim of the drive-by-carroting.

She quickly slammed the books shut just as Snape's voice started it's low, rumbling, verbal castigation. "As irritated as I am to find myself assaulted by an overcooked root vegetable I suppose I should at least count my blessings that you aren't using my classroom as a locale for your underhanded dealings of illicit potions. Although, I must begin to wonder what you are doing in here so much earlier then you are required to be."

"I'm just studying." She said, but she was quickly shuffling the books, the very proof of this assertion, under the table and into her bag, as if she was ashamed to be seen with them.

She finally turned to observe Snape standing behind her, arms crossed, and looking as dour as possible. "And what, pray tell, is it that you could possibly find so worthy of study that you would leave lunch early, sneak into an abandoned classroom and then try to hide the books?"

"History of the Giant Wars?" She suggested, without much conviction. He tried to reach for the bag that still had the corner of the texts noticeably protruding. With quick reflexes she yanked the bag closer to herself before he could grab ahold. "Hey now, don't you need a warrant or something before you can go snooping about in a student's bag?"

"This isn't a Muggle criminal investigation. As your professor, I have the right to search through any personal belongs that I find suspicious." He said, not loosening his vice like grip on the bag's strap

"What's so suspicious about my bag?" She responded, trying to tug the strap away from him.

"Beside the fact that you tried hiding books in it? Books that could be from the restricted section, or worse? Perhaps I have reason to believe that I will find evidence naming you the person who supplied five people with Aging potions in an effort to obstruct the rulings of the ministry in regards to the proceedings of the tournament - which would of course be an actual criminal offense, and not just an infraction of school rules." The tug of war continued.

An over exaggerated look of shock crossed the girl's face. "Why on earth do you think I had anything to do with that? You searched my bag and had me turn out my pockets that day and didn't find anything on me."

"Perchance because you have a history of distributing various brews amongst the student body. Perchance because I had to chase you through three floors of corridors on the day the potions were sold. And perchance because yesterday I found broken bottles on the ground under the window where I had finally caught up with you."

She smiled a challenge at him. "Way to slack on looking for evidence. It's been weeks since then. Isn't there some kind of statute of limitations on this sort of thing. Besides, you've got 400 students running around with glass vials and bottles, what makes you think that those held ageing potion"

"The shards of glass were obscured by an unnaturally mature Sweet Gale Bush. It was only just planted as a sapling this summer."

"Wow . . . that is almost, dare I say, Magical?" Over emphasizing the last word in a feigned awe-filled whisper, Anezka repositioned her left arm to grasp the base of her bag more firmly. "You act as if a magically grown plant and some shards of glass, are as condemning of evidence as a blood soaked glove."

"Detention tonight Miss Sova."

"So much for acquittal." She whispered to herself. "Since I realize arguing what the detention is for, will very much be a waste of time, let me just say thanks, but no thanks, I am not available tonight. Filch has me dusting portraits all night for flooding the girl's toilets. I tried telling him that you can't give a kid detention for having a case of the liquid shits, but he didn't seem to care."

Before Snape could respond, assign her detention for the next night or in anyway respond to her foul mouth, other students started arriving and he was forced to resign himself to dealing with her later.

* * *

"I hope you were not sleeping when you received my message, Severus." Dumbledore said kindly as Snape sat down across from him.

Days had passed since Snape had found Anezka 'studying' and he hoped this meeting was Dumbledore finally acquiescing to Snape's request that all of her other scheduled detentions be put on hold, until she could serve the one he wanted to assign to her. Her Friday night was spent dusting for Filch, Saturday was spent helping to weed plants in the Greenhouses for Sprout and she was supposed to have spent any free time on that very day with Binns, until her essay on the International Statute of Secrecy, which was two weeks late, was completed. She managed to skive off most of the morning by going to the school chapel for prayers, although Snape doubted her having any real religious compunction, at least not enough to last two hours. However, her wasting the morning that way meant that the History of Magic professor did not release her from his classroom until curfew. The approaching week looked to have her after class hours just as full and Snape did not want to wait an entire week to assign her detention.

"What else would I be doing a one o'clock in the morning?' Snape growled, even though he hadn't in fact been in bed, but rather had been sitting up by his fireplace, reading, when Dumbledore's head appeared in the flames, requesting an immediate meeting with him. Both men knew this, but Dumbledore felt the need to waste his time with pleasantries, so Snape decided to waste his with unjustified irritation.

"It was very important that I speak to you right away."

Snape pawed at his eyes, in reality, to try and remove the exhaustion from them, but he hoped the action read as tried patience. "It always is."

"The dragons from the colony in Romania have arrived for the First Challenge." Dumbledore said matter of factually.

This did give Snape pause. His many skills did not extend to any kind of animal, magical or otherwise, and least of all to dragons, so why he was being given this information confused him. "Excellent. The weeding out of the weakest students can start immediately. Why tell me of this?"

Dumbledore smiled that damned, inscrutable, knowing smile. "I need you to escort Miss Sova to the forbidden forest."

"While I am thrilled at the idea of feeding her to one of the beasts, usually you don't encourage me to do such things. For what reason am I escorting her to the forbidden forest?"

"I believe some of the handlers are very eager to see her." With this statement he handed a scribbled note to Snape. "They arrived about two hours ago, and after some brief excitement, I believe they finally have the dragons sedated, bedded down and their encampment set up. Now would most likely be the best time for her to be out there. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Miss Sova would prefer to spend the rest of her night out there."

"Impossible. All students must be in their dormitories past curfew unless in the company of a teacher." Snape shook his head vehemently.

"Come, my boy, I think in this case we can make an exception." Dumbledore posited as a supposition, but Snape knew it was more of a command.

"Very well." He grumbled and stood, leaving Dumbledore's office with nary a goodnight to the older man.

He had feared that the girl might have gone off on one of her late night jaunts around the castle, but was relieved upon reaching the common rooms to find that she was obeying curfew, at least nominally, and was sprawled out on the settee in the common room, snoring loudly.

After coughing, tapping his foot, and practically yelling her name he had almost given up all hope and feared he would have to resort to physically shaking the girl, when her small pet rescued him. The hedgehog that she carried with her everywhere had asleep on her stomach when he first arrived, but was woken up easier than his mistress and had been staring at Snape's attempt to wake Anezka as if it was some kind of show. Finally, the creature grunted strangely at Snape, and then walked up the length of her body and started licking the girl's face.

"Harold, bugger off." She muttered, her eyes still screwed shut. "I'm having a really weird dream." The hedgehog persisted, this time scratching gently at her chin with his paw. "Look, either eat it, piss on it, or stab it with a quill, I don't care." She pushed the hedgehog away but he to the opportunity to bite her little finger, finally causing her to open her eyes. "What the fu. . . " She lifted her head to see what the animal was worrying her for, and finally noticed Snape standing at the foot of the settee. "Oh. Hi. Have you decided on a pre-dawn detention?" She yawned greatly, causing her grey eyes to water. "Or are you just going to yell at me for sleeping out here?"

His arms were crossed, his foot tapped against the stone floor, and he tried his best to look imperious. "Neither. Although, I must point out that you do have a bed to sleep in. I am told the Slytherin dormitories have the most comfortable ones in the castle."

She sat up, yawned again, stretched and then scratched at her already mussed up hair. "I sleep better on sofas." Her shrug was artless as she stared back at him fearlessly, and Snape imagined that there was some kind of obscure reasoning behind her statement, but he didn't bother to ask.

"You are to get dressed immediately, fetch a warm cloak and follow me to the forest."

"I thought the forest was forbidden. Hence, why it was named the 'Forbidden Forest'. Seems a bit contrary to be taking me there. Or have I finally driven you to the edge and you are going to take me to the furthest reaches of the wood, have me dig a rectangular hole and then whack me with a shovel, resting assured that no one will ever find my grave."

"This is a well respected school, Miss Sova, not an American Mafia film." He said as she sat upright on the couch and started pulling on a pair of boots that had been discarded haphazardly next to the couch. He wondered for a moment at her ability to both question everything but to comply without answers.

"Alright, I'm ready." She clearly had no intentions of changing out of the flannel pyjama bottoms and the dingy vest that she wore.

"It's two degrees outside. You might want something warmer. I have no intention of making a return trip to the castle, halfway out to the forest, simply because you couldn't follow instructions"

Reaching also, for her bag, she untied a hoodie from the strap and shrugged her way into it. "Happy?"

"Thrilled." He said, and silently turned and headed for the door, expecting her to follow. They made it out of the castle and halfway across the grounds in merciful silence.

"It's cold." She stated, calmly. Snape turned to look at her and realized that she had produced and lit a cigarette without him realizing it.

"It's November in the Highlands. What exactly did you expect?"

"Well, I was thinking that Hogwarts could create some kind of magical bio-dome around itself, creating an ideal micro-climate that could be controlled." She said quickly, as if she had been expecting his question and had already thought of the answer.

Snape pushed aside his thought that such a thing mightn't be a terrible idea, as his many years of injuries certainly didn't appreciate the winter chills and quickly quipped back. "Oh certainly, cause the Headmaster and Staff have nothing better to do with their time then act as the guardians of climate for a pack of whinging brats. If you learned to dress appropriately for the region and the season, perhaps you wouldn't be cold."

"I didn't say I didn't LIKE the cold. I just said it WAS cold! It was a casual observation. I am told conversations are started that way." She scoffed and went back to a sullen silence for a moment, taking a drag of her smoke. "Don't you ever have conversations? Or in your mind does always berating and belittling people count?"

"Do you ever shut up? Or in you mind does endless, nonsensical prattle count as conversation?"

Again, a moment of silence. "So I guess we both suck at that whole 'human interaction' thing, huh? We both say nothing, just in different ways."

"I don't think I shall attempt to wake you ever again; You tend towards maudlin and esoteric philosophizing." He didn't like to think about how acutely accurate her observations were. People did not simply converse with him - they gave him orders, gave him lectures, gave him excuses their homework was late, but never conversed. Likewise, he imagined, despite her friendship with the two most popular girls in Slytherin, that she wasn't much included on daily chats. He imagined that others around her talked, and she listened, never able to get an articulate thought in edgewise, and occasionally made her verbal noise, just to be heard. He knew his caustic conversational stylings had come from years of being ripped apart by others, and was simply a preemptive strike before others could attack him, but the thought crossed his mind to wonder how her habit had formed.

Shaking himself, he realized now it was he who was turning maudlin. He had no time for such thoughts, especially as they had now reached the edge of the forest, and vigilance was key. As they moved further into the woods, her chatter continued, this time far less profound in nature and he mostly ignored it.

He had never seen this girl be stopped short in the middle of one of her babbling tirades, but at the sound of a loud grumbling, almost sounding like a roll of thunder, followed immediately by a myriad of voices shouting in a foreign language she froze and caught her breath.

Turning back to the path, she started running, dropping the cigarette she still held and losing an untied shoe in the process. Knowing that he had to stay with her until she reached their destination, according to school rules, he quickened his pace to follow, picking up the boot and stamping out the smouldering butt she had left in her wake.

Just as he was rounding a bend in the path, he finally caught sight of her, just as she was catching sight of their destination. Her baited breath was finally released, in the form of a gasp, and her eyes widened. Snape was about to reach out to catch her arm, and chastise her for running off, but she slipped through his grip and continued towards an encampment of colourful pavilion tents, forming a semi circle around 4 monstrously large cages. She didn't run this time, but tread carefully and whistling strangely -almost sounding like an shrill and staccato bird call, and suddenly at least three pairs of eyes were on her, as she approached the Dragon handlers that were clustered around one particular cage that seemed to hold a mountain of a sleeping creature. An imitation of an owl-hoot answered her whistle, and one man, of about Snape's height, but more muscular of a build approached the girl, as she continued her way into the camp. While he knew there was no imminent danger, he stayed back and observed, if only just for the fact that he did not want to fill out the paperwork on the off chance that the girl got hurt.

Not sure what to expect, Snape was strangely taken aback when the girl practically launched herself into the man's open arms, and her small frame was quickly obscured by his embrace. "TATI!" He heard the girl squeal, in a startlingly child-like tone. "Mi-ai lipsit foarte mult!"

The man picked the girl up and spun her around, a deep, baritone laugh echoing through the glade. "Draga mea! It has been too long! You have grown!" He finally set her back down on the ground, and placed his hand on the back of her head.

"Dad!" She whined, but didn't try to stop him from ruffling her already messy hair. "I haven't gotten any taller in like, four years."

"No, no. You have grown. You are all grown up. I have a grown daughter." The man practically oozed pride as rested his hand on the girl's cheek. "Come, your Grandfather and Uncle will want to see you, too. Grandmother sent some apple cake."

She started to walk farther into the torch-lit encampment with her father, but hesitated, and turned to look back to the path, where Snape stood, obscured by tree branches. Mumbling a quick word in Romanian to the man, she skipped back quickly, making a direct path towards him, as if she knew exactly where the professor stood.

Brushing past the foliage, she stood before him and just stared for a minute. Suddenly, before he could predict what was going to happen, the girl wrapped her frail arms around him. "Thank you." She said, as she hugged him tightly.

Standing frozen in his spot, Snape was past shocked. He didn't even know how to begin to react. "For what?" He scoffed.

"For bringing me out here." As disconcerting as the hug had been at the initiation, her continued embrace continued to disturb him.

"It was Dumbledore's instructions." Snape kept his tone icy and clipped, as he tried prying her arms off of him

"Yeah, I figured." She finally let go, but looked at him. "But you didn't _have_ to bring me.. So, thanks."

And with that, she skipped off, but not before grabbing her boot out of Snape's paralyzed hand. It wasn't until she had disappeared into a tent that he finally found himself able to move, and he began to make his way back towards the castle, and a stiff drink. "Confounded girl!" He grumbled to himself as he walked.


	40. Fathers

Snape slammed the door as he entered his private chambers. No one but he was near enough to hear the loud clanging, but the noise gave voice to his ire and served to drown out the raucous thoughts swirling around his mind, even if only for a moment.

With long and purposeful strides, he crossed the grey stone floor quickly, snatching off the heavy wool cloak that he had worn, now dotted with melting flurries of snow that had started falling just before reaching the castle doors. He hung the cloak on it's usual hook next to the large fireplace, and collapsed on the chair that was angled to face the roaring flames. He picked up a book off the stack that had collected next to the seat, but he found himself blindly flipping through it's pages, with no real distraction from his thoughts being given.

He had always assumed that for the Sova girl to have turned out as poorly as she had, she must have had an a sharp-tongued, critical harridan for a mother - not unlike the Grandmother he had already met. Likewise, he always imagined her father to be an angry, Dracula-like tyrant. As much as he battled the idea from taking shape, he couldn't help but think that had he been as fortunate as she, with such an obviously doting and kind father as she clearly had, how might have his life been different. He might not have ever been so lonely, to end up in that park alone, as a small child. . .

"_Things might not be as they seem"_ The mere thought of the day he met her, caused the ghost of Lily's voice to echo through him.

"Do not be a fool!" He actually argued aloud. "What do you take me for? Some naive Hufflepuff that takes everything at face value? Have I not spent years of my life learning to read body language and subtext of every human interaction? Weighing it, looking for the cracks and false images? I know what I saw. There was no hesitation in her Father's greeting, no evidence of pretense in his affectionate words, and she received them with complete abandon and . . . joy." He spat the last word out like it was bitter. He stood from the antique chair so quickly, it toppled over, and he stormed angrily across the room, and poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter that sat atop a side table.

"And what was that damned girl on about, hugging a professor?" He railed to the air. It surprised him that he had been more caught up in her interaction with her father then he had been at the sign of physical affection she had shown to him. Perhaps he could distract himself from one with the other. "Besides it being completely inappropriate for a student to hug a teacher, just who does she think I am? Dumbledore? McGonagal? I am Professor SNAPE for Merlin's sake! Students don't hug ME! I am intentionally cruel and cold - I don't want the miniature wretches to like me. I want them to fear me!"

He heard a haunting laugh. "_She doesn't fear you. You've known that for a while. She understands your shell - it's not so unlike her own. She respects you, in her own way, might even say that she likes you. You are probably the person that she interacts with the most in the whole school, and that pays her the most attention. She's lonely Sev."_

"I've never heard something more ridiculous. She's friends with the two wealthiest, most popular girls in school!"

"_Did being friends with Lucius Malfoy ever make you less lonely?"_

"That's different." He scoffed, and started to pour himself more into the glass he had only just emptied. "I sought approval. I wanted to belong somewhere, for the first time in my life."

"_Maybe that is what she is looking for as well."_

"Absurd! She comes from strong, important magical families. She clearly has doting parents, and friends at school. She has nothing to prove, nor is she attempting to. There are NO similarities between she and I."

"_And you call yourself a Slytherin. Again I say, things might not be what they seem."_

He grumbled, but formed no real argument. Fighting the temptation for a third drink, Snape set the tumbler back down next to the decanter and crossed the room and collapsed on the bed, face first. Perhaps in sleep all these unbidden thoughts would leave him be.

As he drifted off, though, he found his luck wouldn't have it so. In the half sleeping, half waking state images danced through his mind, in reverse order. First came scenes of the Sova girl, following her friends around but never really seeming to be part of the crowds, which were then transplanted by images of his own school years, looking much the same, surrounded by those that would become Death Eaters, but never really looking as if he belonged. Next, a replay of the incident in the forest, of Anezka hugging him, followed closely by memories of the last time he had even been hugged. Lastly, the image of Sova father and daughter, smiling and pleased to see each other quickly morphed into a terrifying vignette of Tobias Snape, shouting angrily and throwing things. . .

* * *

The interior of Casmir Sova's tent was just as comfortable and intriguing as Anezka remembered it being - even though she only ever saw it once, years before. As her father puttered around, rummaging through ornately carved antique chests she lay sprawled out on a plethora of large, colourful, tapestry pillows on the floor. While the tent was not magically enlarged, the fact that the large oak spoke and wheel frame for the circular pavilion's roof floated ten feet off the ground was as fascinating to her now as it had been when she was seven. The heavy, antique tapestries that hung from the wall, served to both add colour and keep the tent warm in the early winter chill.

"When she heard we might be seeing you, your Grandmother made sure to send some cake. She knows how much you love it." He explained what he was looking for, for about the fifth time, but Anezka decided not to remind him of that yet. "Oh! I should make tea to go with it." He dropped the various books he was shuffling through in search of the cake and went to the small camp stove that was set up on the opposite side of the tent. He placed the the old iron tea kettle on top of the heated surface, and turned to smile at his daughter. "I remember how much you like tea with your apple cake." He said, then returned to his rummaging. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't really like apple cake, and she didn't drink much tea any more. Instead, she just returned his smile, and shook her head a little, when his search stopped suddenly, his attention captured by a book. "I've been wanting to read this one again." He said, and started casually flipping through the pages.

Shaking her head, she decided to put him out of the misery of trying to lead the conversation. "I didn't recognize any of the dragons out there. Are they from the Sanctuary?" She asked, rolling over onto her back, and looking at her now visually upside down parent.

It took him a moment to answer, as he looked up from the page he had been studying. "What? Oh, yes. The tournament officials contacted both us and the Sanctuary, to ask for nesting mothers to be sent. None of the females at the Colony have been bred for about four years now, so we had none to send. The Sanctuary just asked for some of us to help handling the dragons they were sending. They could not spare enough handlers to travel here with the three they sent, without being short handed there. Oh! Did I tell you? Your grandfather finally approved my request to start cross-breeding. For a while I was going to mix the male Opal-eye male to the Welsh Green female, but now I am thinking our male Romanian Balaur is a better choice for a sire. The Greens have such a reclusive, subdued temperament and I am curious to see if the gene that give the Balaur the two heads will be dominant or recessive in a mixed offspring. I have often wondered . . ." What was sure to be a long and exclusively erudite monologue on various traits of different breeds of dragons was interrupted by the shrill whistling of the kettle. Casmir was stopped short by the sound, and started to look around, as if not sure where it was coming from.

Shaking her head, Anezka stood from her sea of pillows and went to remove the kettle from the heat. She had lost count of the number of kettles her father had burned through by the time she was eight, as he tended to forget they were on the hob. His habit for over-boiling the water also led to the habit of 'letting the water cool', which usually meant that it was entirely cold again by the time he remembered he had planned on making tea. Knowing this, Anezka automatically went about gathering the tea leaves and a chipped porcelain teapot. They had been stored carefully, along with the apple cake in a trunk clearly marked "_Mâncare, și tort de mere pentru Anezka"_ - Edibles, and Apple cake for Anezka, written in her grandmother's precise script.

He continued to talk for a few moments while Anezka let the pot steep and cut slices of the pastry , only ceasing the overly intelligent prattle about the genetic code of various draconis subset species, when his daughter handed him a plate and a mug. "Oh, I had forgotten about the cake and tea. Mulțumesc, dragă." He sat down, and sipped the warm drink, made just as he liked it with an excess of cream and five cubes of sugar. "How is school, Anezka? Are your grades good?"

Anezka shrugged as she pushed the cake around on her plate. "Good enough. I'm acing my potions and herbology classes." She tried only bringing attention to her strengths.

"Exellent! What about your magical creatures class? Are you doing well."

Her gut knotted. She hadn't told him that she wasn't taking Care of Magical creatures - his favourite subject, and she was afraid it would break his heart. "Actually, I didn't enroll for it."

A quick sadness crossed his face, but it passed quickly, and his warm, broad smile took it's usual place. "Of course you didn't. You are more like your Mother in that." Nezza wrinkled her nose at this comparison, and her father tsked at her. "Don't be a brat. There is nothing wrong with being like your mother. Besides, I just meant that plants, rather than animals are what she is best at caring for." Anezka made a comment about her mother loving plants more than people, but Casmir chose to ignore it. "Remember how terrible she was with that cat of hers. What was it called again?"

"Lucky." Anezka supplied, suppressing a chuckle. She hated to admit it, but her mother's sense of humor in naming her black cat Lucky always amused her. The cat hated it's mistress, and wasn't particularly fond of Casmir either, but tolerated him a bit better, because he was usually just content to observe it's habits, rather than trying to treat it like a lap cat as Gwendolyn did. The only human in the Sova family it ever formed any kind of bond with was Anezka. They were similar creatures - both a bit wild from lack of attention. Lucky had wandered off on Anezka's seventh birthday, just hours before they left London and moved to Romania, and the cat had never been seen since. Anezka, unlike most little girls who would cry at the thought of their kitty being homeless, relished the idea that her cat was living wild, enjoying the freedom of being an alley cat. However, a sad feeling washed over her, and she removed Harold from the hoodie pocket he was sleeping in to give him a hug.

"And your teachers? Do you get on with them."

Again her answer tried to disguise the facts using half-truths. "For the most part." He didn't have to know about the week's worth of detention she had just served. There was no point telling him, as he would just forget in a few hours anyway.

"And will you come home after this year is over?"

Again, she didn't want to give him her answer, for fear of seeing sadness in his face. "I don't think so. I think I want to set up on my own. I've been looking for shop space in Diagon Alley. There are potions supply shops, and basic apothecaries, but I can't help but feel that there is a market for ready made potions." She didn't say what they both already knew. She had something to prove.

While the magical world had rejected her Mother, Anezka wanted to prove she could make it in that world, while her Mother couldn't. She needed to prove that she was a talented and capable witch, who didn't need help from anyone, nonetheless the Sova family. To her Father, she didn't feel the need to prove anything - his adoration and pride of her was unswerving, but that didn't stop her from wanting to do something to make her worth that pride. She wanted to be noticed, and she couldn't do that if she moved back into her grandparent's home with her Father. If she did that, she'd just be another one of the thirteen grandchildren, only noticeable from the others because she was a girl and because she wasn't fluent in Romanian.

Again, the melancholy seemed to take over Casimir's face, but it quickly faded. "You are your Mother's girl. So independent." He stood and hugged his child, who was again grimacing at the comparison. "I always loved that about her, and I love it more in you." He said, and sat down next to her, and started reading his book, leaving her with nothing to do, other than to mess with Harold.

For all that he was sitting next to her, her Father might as well have still been on another continent, he was so rapt up in his book, but Anezka didn't mind. She was used to it, and she found such comfort in sharing the company of someone who left her to her own devices.


	41. Yule

"Why do I get the feeling that the two of you only pretend to be friends with me so that you can feel better about yourselves?" Anezka asked, resignedly. It was the first weekend of December, and all attention was now wrapt on the looming date of Christmas Eve and the Yule Ball.

To this end, the twins had torn apart their dormitory and practically had her chained to a seat, as they were tugging at her hair, and magicking various combinations of make up onto Anezka's face. It wasn't the first time that she was being bullied into a make-over, and Anezka got the sickening feeling, that it wouldn't be the last.

"No. If we wanted that, we'd be friends with Gretchen!" Jade scoffed, glad that their irritating roommate was conspicuously absent. She took a momentary pause to rummage through her vault-like make up kit.

"That's true." Onxy said with a nod and an indelicate grunt as she finally managed to secure a jeweled clip into one of Anezka's unruly locks. "We're friends with you because you are awfully fun to play dress up with."

"Oh for Christ's sake! Just buy a Paula Pixie Doll already and be done with it." This complaint was roundly ignored, as Jade smeared some Egyptian Khol around Nezza's already heavy lidded eyes.

Taking a final appraising look, Jade must have like the results, cause she dropped the eyeliner, and dusted off any traces of cosmetics from her hands. "Alright, let's see this dress that you got. If we do manage to find you a date, we don't want you to scare him off by looking like the Bride of Frankenstein or something."

"You get an A+ for the Pop Culture reference, but the only way that will happen is if Nyx keeps teasing my hair - OW!" She finished her sentence with a shriek as Onxy tried to remove the brush from the spot of hair that it got knotted in, while trying to backcomb the dark tresses.

"The Dress?" Jade persisted, adamant to not let her friend change the subject.

"It's hanging up in the wardrobe." She couldn't see that the blonde twin was already rummaging through the closet, as her head was forced into a bowed position, as Onxy attempted to to do something with the length of the ends.

"That's where I'm looking. . . . oh . . . you aren't talking about this pink abomination are you?" She reemerged from the wardrobe, holding up a not-so-designer creation of tulle, sequins and a-symmetrical design.

"What's wrong with it?" Anezka sounded both mortally offended and genuinely confused. "The girl at the shop said it was edgy and fashion forward. I thought you guys would like it."

"Yes, edgy and fashion forward is all well and good if you are going to a Circe concert or Fantastical Fashion Week, but not for the Yule Ball! This is an event for elegance. Time for poise, tradition, and . . . elegance." She repeated the word, only with more emphasis the second time. "Not for hot pink." She took one more sceptical glance at the offending garment she owned before she chucked it back into the closet floor. "I mean, really? Hot Pink?"

Anezka shot Jade a glare. "It's my favorite colour!"

"Well, let's leave that for the five year olds and see about finding you something else." She rummaged around her trunk and pulled out a leather bound book. "We won't have time to order anything made. Madame Helene won't have any openings. So we will just have to see if we can recycle something that we already have at home."

It was just at that moment, that Gretchen came rushing back into the room flushed with excitement, the cold winter air outside, and more exercise then she was normally accustomed to. "Look at this _fantastic_ dress I just bought!" She held up an exact replica of the one that Jade had just rejected and consigned to the floor. The glint in the girl's eye, along with her obvious expectation for reaction belied her intentions and early morning departure. It was obvious to all assembled that she had previously seen the dress hanging up in the shared space, and decided that she would go out and buy the same. Thinking that it must belong to one of the twins, she assumed that it would not only give her a fashionable choice that she would never have been able to pick herself, but it would also give her the pleasure of seeing one of the Argent girls have to squirm and rush to find a new dress, or else be seen wearing the same gown as someone else.

"Oh, it's lovely Gretch. It will suit you .. . . perfectly." Jade said, her tone layered with both sickly sweetness and deathly venom. Not losing her composure for one moment she continued. "Anezka was going to wear the exact same dress, but we had just decided that it wouldn't suit her complexion at all, but you aren't _quite_ as pale as her ,so it should be lovely on you."

Gretchen sniffed, snobbishly. She had been prepared for anger and consternation, not encouragement and and calm. Tossing the dress onto the bed, she left the room in a huff.

"Nice jab about the complexion J." Onyx said, with a grin, hands still buried in Anezka's hair. "Considering that her skin is practically clear, she's now going to do anything in her power to get some sun."

"I wish her good luck with that. Scotland in winter is hardly the place to get that beachy glow." Jade said, casually flipping through the family photo album of formal event past, trying to get ideas for what her favorite dress-up toy by way of friend should wear. "I wouldn't be in the least surprised if she comes to you to make her some tan-in-a-can lotion, Nez."

Anezka snorted at this. "I'll do it. Only problem is, even when it's made perfectly, that shit will still turn you orange if you use too much."

"Oh, we know. And Gretchen will use too much." Onyx giggled.

Collapsing down on the bed that the other two were sitting on, Jade nudged her sister for attention. "What about this one?" She pointed to a picture, fairly old, well before even their parent's time. "We could do something about that horrible high lace collar, so it isn't quite so dated looking."

"I don't want to wear a bustle!" Anezka whimpered as she looked at the image, and the other girls sighed in both annoyance and resignation. "Well . . .what about that one . . ." She pointed to another photo, a bit newer in age, but still antiqued around the edges.

Both girl's looked at the photo and jaws dropped. "It's a little more, sleek, than I had imagined for the Ball, but it would suit your build nicely. And I know that Mum has kept all of Granny Emerald's old dresses."

"That is very elegant, and still very formal looking."

"Anezka . . ." Jade said, finally looking up from the photo. "You might have a fashion sense after all."

Promptly a letter was written and sent off to the Argent house, for the dress to be delivered and quickly.

* * *

It wasn't often that Nezza felt pretty. It wasn't often that she even attempted to or took enough note of how she looked to feel one way or another about it, but even she had to admit, if she was a boy, she would be into her.

"Nezza . . .wow!" Even Jade, lavishly clad in in a tulle skirted, basque waist ball gown in a decadent teal-green colour, seemed impressed by the final result of Anezka's appearance, which was filed away in every one's mind as no small compliment, even as she seemed enraptured with watching how the light reflected of the hand-sewn crystal beading that adorned the bodice. "You do look really, incredibly nice!"

With a small half smile, Anezka tried to give a twirl in the mirror, only to get tangled up on the small train on her dress, and nearly topple over.

Onyx laughed from where she sat, across their dorm room, in a chair by the fire, using a charm to buckle the silver-strapped heels that were the same colour as her version of the same dress Jade wore. "Don't hurt yourself. Or the dress!"

"Well, we better get upstairs soon. If we leave now, it will be in enough time to make an entrance, but much longer and we will just look stupidly late." With a final vain glance in a mirror, Jade made certain that her tousled curls, were just tousled enough, and then lead the way to the door, followed closely by her dark haired twin, and their friend.

Most of the rest of the party-goers had already met their dates in the entrance hall, and had made their way into the great hall, and the chatter and excitement came off the room in palpable waves as the girls approached. "I told Alain and Valentine to meet us just inside the doors." Even their entrances had been planned, along with the careful selections of escorts. Neither Argent had many options left in the Hogwarts dating pool, having broken up with almost every upperclassmen boy in Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and even one Gryffindor. Luckily, they had their pick of the litter when it came to the foreign exchange students - Valentine had asked his cousin to set him up with one of her friends, he didn't particularly care which, as soon as he realized that the rest of the English girls were practically falling at his feet. Alain was from Beauxbatons, and had been spouting sweet, french nothings to Jade since their first week in residence. As her was remarkably handsome, and so pure blooded he could trace his lineage back ten generations without a single muggle, Jade thought it would be acceptable to allow him to be her companion for the evening.

Anezka, despite the best match-making efforts of her roommates, had no date, but she didn't particularly feel the need for one - at least not until all three girls had sashayed into the ornately decorated Great Hall, all eyes turning towards them, at least for a moment, and then one by one, they were collected by their gentleman. Even Gretchen, having glommed onto them the minute they arrived, was quickly swept away to the dance floor, despite the fact that she looked like an over baked, orange-glazed turkey, and was wearing a dress made up almost entirely of hot-pink ruffles.

There were a few other stag attendees in the room, but no one Nezza knew, and she stood awkwardly at the fringe of the crowds, abandoned by her friends, who were now eagerly awaiting the dancing to start with the dates. Eventually, with all the couples crowding and shifting, vying for a spot closest to the dance floor, she ended up being pushed all the way to the far corner of the Hall, next to the punch bowl, wishing she had brought her flask. She had intentionally left it in her bag, with the plan of at least attempting to have fun the way the normal kids did.

The Champions were to dance first, to officially open the Ball, and then another formal waltz would be expected of everyone else who intended to dance. Most saw this as something to get through before the real fun started, but really, secretly, it was the part Nezza was most looking forward to, though she didn't have a partner.

"No date, Sova?" A seventh year Gryffindor boy, who always seemed to enjoy mocking her as much as he could possibly manage in the classes they shared, but who at the same time, was one of her best customers sauntered over to where she stood feeling awkward and out of place. His presence didn't make her feel any better. "Don't you Slytherins usually just buy one?"

"No date, Marley?" She sneered back at the boy. "Don't you Gryffindors usually just hit a girl over the head and drag her?"

"Well, I suppose I could dance with you, just to save you the embarrassment." He paused, giving her an appraising once over. "But you would have to make it up to me later." He said with an over-articulated wink, his innuendo not entirely subtle.

"Ew. How would that be saving me the embarrassment? I'd rather dance with an house-elf. As to making it up you . . . " It was her turn to pause and look her peer over, but her glance shouted scepticism. "Good luck finding your own junk tonight, when you go fuck yourself - what with all the Minotaur blood you've been dropping to get those ridiculous biceps, chances are your dick has shriveled up to the size of a Wotsit." Nezza smiled to herself as she turned to walk away, loving the stunned look on the boy's face. Sometimes, knowing everyone's bad habits came in hand for the snappiest comebacks.

The exchange, strangely, had almost cheered her up, having enjoyed the barbed banter, until she overheard Marley, joining a group of 4 other boys, all without female companions, who were gathered together, despite all being from various houses. "I asked, so I should still win!" He said, to the raucous laughter of the others - they had all overheard the exchange and were howling with amusement. Apparently it was great sport to dare your mates to ask the least appealing girl in the school to dance.

"That wasn't the bet. You only win if you actually get her to dance!"

Anezka was used to being teased, being the butt of jokes, even being gambled on, but for some reason, it wasn't rolling off of her that night the way that it usually did. She blamed the dress, the shoes, the hair, the make up. They left her feeling exposed.

Knowing that the twins wouldn't be looking for her for the better part of an hour, Nezza fled the room as quickly as the crowds and the damned high-heels would allow her, and quickly darted through the now deserted entryway, and out through the large oak doors that stood open to allow in the cool air and give a beautiful vista to the snow-dusted grounds, decorated in fairy-lights and holiday flowers. She didn't have anyone to dance with, no one had noticed all the work she had - rather the twins had - put in making her look nice, so what was the point of lingering when she didn't have anyone to talk to. Better to go have a smoke, while she could, calm herself down and then go back in to hang out with the twins after they were done swanning around the dance floor.

The dress she wore had no pockets, nor did it afford any hiding places to tuck a cigarette into, so knowing that she might need a break in the middle of the event, Anezka had tucked a small baggie of smokes under a rock in a sheltered alcove, just to the right of the stairs leading down from the main entrance to the castle. The the grass and trees were frosted with, but the little corner she hid in was surprisingly warm, despite the light and flimsy nature of her dress. It was nestled directly under a window that lead into the Great Hall and both the warming charm on the room, and the music that was being played in there, wafted through the open glass portal, into her hidden nook.

She had just bowed her head to light the end of her cigarette, when she heard a low, snide voice from the walk way.

"Tsk, tsk. Not even a mandatory event, and you still feel the need to be a truant." She looked up to see Snape standing under the archway that partially enclosed the little alcove, arms crossed and dressed no differently than he was any other day of the week, even though all the other teachers broke out their best for the formal occasion. "How terribly . . . obvious of you. What other sterotypical miscreant behaviour should I expect to see from you tonight? Pouring alcohol into the punch bowl? Intentionally ripping another girl's dress?"

Unabashed, she took a long drag, staring him in the eyes. "Not bad ideas. I'll get right on them. Thanks."

"Why aren't you in the Great Hall with the rest of the students?"

"Should I list the reasons alphabetically, or in order of emotionally imperative?"

"Just a singular, valid one is all I require.

"I needed to smoke." She contemplated for a minute, before saying this, actually reveiling why she had decided to leave the party within only minutes of arriving, but she thought better of it. Before he could insist that, no doubt, she had smoked not long before preparing for the evening, she turned the conversation around on him. "Why are you out here?"

His posture tensed, which was a feat considering he was already walking around in his normal, defensive and upright bearing. "I am a chaperone at a youth event, and one of the students - a known and notorious troublemaker - was seen sneaking out. It's my duty to make sure that you are not going to blow up the school."

"Watching me were you, eh?" She said, with a small giggle, enjoying in advance how much his eye would start twitching from the infuriating things she was about to say. "Got a bit of a crush much, that you can't take your eyes off of me? Dirty old sod. . . ." She laughed and asked her cigarette. To her bemusement, however, his face remained placidly stoic, no more or less angry and irritated then he was before she had spoken.

By now, the music was in full tilt, and she could picture the four champions and their dates gliding around the polished floor. A wicked, amusing and strangely enticing thought suddenly ran through her mind, and she found herself speaking it. "D'yawannadancewitme?" The words all ran together, either by intention or by actual nerves, but the words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could give further thought to them, earning her a confused stare from Snape.

"What?"

"I said 'Do you. . ." She slowed her words down to a speed that would be understood by the thickest of giants and she punctuated them with a gesture pointing to her teacher at the word 'you'. "Want to . . . DANCE" Index fingers pointed upwards, she did a strange shimmy type movement with her shoulders. "With me." She finished, pointing to herself. All this pantomime did was morph Snape's confusion into shock. "Don't look at me like that! I am wearing an evening gown, I've spent the last forty-eight hours balancing a book on top my head to try and learn balance and posture and I have had something that tastes like liquid anthrax lacquered onto my nails to keep me from biting them, just so I will look reasonable next to the Minions of Darkness in all the photos." She gestured wildly as she spoke, motioning to the mentioned dress, her head and even holding up her fingers for a general inspection. "I've also nearly broken my legs about fifteen times trying to learn this damned dance on the off chance that someone would ask me, so as not to embarrass anyone and if all of that was for nothing, I will most likely commit murders in the middle of the night. As everything else in the castle resembling a creature with testicles thinks the only reason to dance with me is to win a bet, it might as well be you, as I am sure you won't want to fill out the paperwork when half your house is discovered dead in the morning." Still he stared, mouth no longer agape, but expression still blank. "Oh for pity's sake!"

Without waiting for him to say anything she stubbed out her cigarette and sauntered up to him, grabbing his right hand in her left and placing his left firmly on her narrow waist, while her right went onto his shoulder. After a count of one-two-threeone-two-three, and a gentle push, they started to circle their way around the stone alcove, twirling and spinning at the appropriate times to the music. "I don't mind leading, usually, but if you don't take over soon, I am going to have to try and lift you, and I make no promises that you won't be dropped." While she hadn't been in the correct position to be the lead, Anezka had practically been pushing Snape through the movements but at her snark, suddenly something shifted and the was being gently pulled

through the steps, just as a dance should be done. Within in a few more seconds she was suddenly hoisted into the air. She couldn't help but notice that Snape was holding his breath.

* * *

Snape was not a sentimental man, nor was he prone to flights of whimsy. He ran his life as a logical series of causes and effects, and, for the most part, the emotions he was most familiar with were anger and exhaustion. How he ended up in a secluded corner of the school grounds, waltzing with a student still baffled him, although he told himself that it was suspicion that had caused him to follow her outside in the first place. He attempted to go over the events of the evening up until that moment, and his reactions to it, but he couldn't pinpoint one thing or place.

LIke most teenaged girls, she and the Argent girls entered rooms with great affect, a vain effort to be noticed. When he first saw her coming into the Great Hall a short while earlier, it had crossed his mind that she looked beautiful. If that thought startled him at first, he quickly managed to justify it. A man would have to be dead, blind or a fool to not notice her. Amidst a sea of girls that were drowning in yards of ruffles, sequins, satins, taffetas and lace, she was the only one who didn't look like her dress was wearing her, and not vice versa. The thin layers of green silk draped off her elegantly - most garments hung off her slender frame, but this did so with great effect. The low scooped back flattered her, exposing the pale white expanse that was accented but the lines of shoulders and spine - almost as if she was a beautiful skeleton.

Unlike the dress he had seen her in at the party over the summer, the thin, string like staps of the gown did nothing to obscure the tattoos that adorned her upper arms - tattoos so unlike his own, that grew disturbingly darker every day, recently. Her confident display amused him. Such brass, brazen rebellion should have disgruntled him but rather than interpreting it as a strangely Gryffindor behaviour, he saw it for how she herself meant it - a sharp dichotomy of elegant gown and edgy personal adornments. The statement may have been boldly put, but it spoke of multifacetedness, a visual reminder that she was no one thing, and that to misjudge her or forget that she could be one thing or another would be a dangerous error.

He found himself oddly . . . proud . . . that she made this statement about herself.

When he has seen her rush out of the Hall, he insisted to himself that he followed for fear of her mischief, but the specter of Lily's voice laughed at him in an infuriating, contrary tone and told him he followed because she had looked upset. He knew this to be nonsense, but he couldn't shake the thought.

Worse still was upon discovering her in the alcove, nestled next to the castle, he didn't need to be the master interpreter of body language that he was to ascertain that she was, in fact, upset, and yet despite this, he intentionally provoked her. He knew no other way, and whereas his ire always tended to terrify other students, it occurred to him, somewhere in his subconscious, that she often seemed to enjoy his cruel manners.

Years of practice of keeping his emotions and thoughts away from the notice of others - along with a year and a half of suffering through her intentionally shocking antics - kept him from even blinking at her accusations that he was harbouring any kind of feelings for her, his student, other than general loathing. He was glad for the skills of repression that he had, or else he would have stood there staring, spluttering and yelling.

But as he dealt with the mental fall out, she had continued talking, causing his riotous inner monologue to continue to go mad. Her request to dance was followed up by a lot of noise about all the suffering she had gone through in preparation for the evening. Before he could make heads or tails of what she was talking about, or what his best course of action would be, the girl was in his arms, pushing him though the waltz.

It had been years since he had learned it, but Snape remembered all the steps perfectly. He had learned it during his time at school, for much the same reasons she had. One could not be a member of Slytherin, housemate and friend to the wealthiest and most aristocratic of wizards and be allowed to stumble one's way through a formal dance and look a fool.

At her prompting, he took the lead, although the entire time, his mind raced, screaming that he should have pushed her away the moment she took his hand, and all the while Lily's laugh haunted him.

More shocking was the fact that he was enjoying himself, her company - albeit grudgingly and never to be admitted to - but he couldn't help but at least not mind that fact that a not-unattractive young woman was willing to dance with him but was actually demanding it. As he lifted her into the air, his breath caught in his throat. It wasn't how light she was, or how much warmth she exuded, but her smell - a unique blend of yellow gentian and agrimonyl. It was an interesting herbal, almost earthy smell with a hint of apricots and it lingered with him, not unpleasantly. The scent was as definitely her as her tattoos were - yellow gentian was common in the rocky terrain of the Carpathians and witch hazel grew commonly in the meadow of Wales.

The dance continued in silence for a few bars, the lack of conversation would be unsettling to others, but suited them both. Snape had always assumed that he enjoyed her silence because it was a change from her usual noise, but he began to wonder if it was because he enjoyed the company of someone who could be content when quite as she sometimes appeared to be.

The last few steps ended but as the music tapered off, neither made no immediate move to release the other from the hold they held on each other. "Well, thanks for the dance, Snapeykins. Instead of weeping into my pillow tonight about being snubbed by everyone, I will be able to write feverishly into my diary that I shared a dance with the dishy young professor."

"Don't be absurd."

"No, really. I guess dishy and young could be up for interpretation, but hey, whatever . . ." An awkward silence, nothing like the companionable one they had just shared, settled over them for a second, and was only broken when Anezka made a strange sort of shrugging. "Anyway, I just saw Domenic Marley and Gretchen Fox go hide behind a tree over there - as a chaperone at this shindig, you might want to go over and disrupt them - wouldn't want Hogwarts' disturbingly low teenage pregnancy rates shot to hell on your watch, now would you?"

He let go and stood back, unable to disguise the small smile tugging at his narrow lips. "No, that would be tragic."

"Yeah - don't want the biggest idiot to breed with biggest twat, that baby would be an abomination." His smile grew at her quip.

"And the fact that Marley's romantic interlude will be interrupted will serve him right after the crude bet he started, am I correct?"

"You know about that?"

"There is very little that happens in this castle that I do not know about, as well you know."

"Well, as long as you use your powers for evil instead of good." She chuckled at her Professor's dark comment. By now she had retrieved another cigarette, lit it and had just taken another puff before speaking again. "So . . . go! Quick! Before Gretchen's already dubious honour is ruined any further. If you and I aren't getting, I will be damned if they are!" More footsteps were heard from the castle, more students were seen trying to discreetly hide behind bushes and statues, and quickly she stamped out her cigarette. "I'll leave first. Wait 2 minutes before you follow." And with that she left the small alcove, her heels clicking against the pavers.

"Good evening Miss Sova." Karkaroff's unctious voice wafted to where Snape waited in the shadows, his stomach notting at the sound. "You look lovely tonight."

"Uh, thanks . . you too?" She didn't sound convinced in her comments, nor comfortable with the Durmstrang Headmaster's compliments and she barely slowed her pace to speak to him, clearly unimpressed with the man.

Igor's approach meant only one thing - that he was looking for Severus - and the anger and distrust that had been conspicuously missing for the past few moments returned with a vengeance, making his temper short before Karkaroff even found him.


End file.
